My closest childhood friend. His poor Aunt and Uncle. To us, Ma and Dad They
raised him since he was six. What an empty feeling. What difference did that Suzuki make now? If only I could have been his friend, maybe we could have started a business. At 20 Ray was gone. A year older, a grade behind because of his move from Communist Poland.
I remember the day in third grade when Ray became a US citizen and he changed his name from Roman to Ray. He was all smiles, you could just feel his glow. Roman Numeral Bread used to advertise a lot, and kids would call him Roman Numeral. It was about the only thing that would piss Ray off. He was stronger than all of us, but he rarely flexed his muscles.
I remember his Ma and Dad at the wake. His birth ma was there,first time I ever had seen her in 14 years. She gave Ray up at six years old to her brother so Ray could live in USA. I remember Ray sending grass cutting money overseas. I guess a little helped a lot in Poland.
Rays parents, really his aunt and uncle, had me sit up in front at the wake as Ray's dearest, closest, longest friend. How hypocritical. I quit being Ray's friend a year before. And when my dad needed help he went across the alley and asked Ray.
A year latter my dad, stupid jerk, Lugan asshole got killed in a head-on.
A few weeks before Ray Kasuba died, he borrowed my 250 Suzuki. The bike was wrecked a bit already from me having dropped it. So the bike had damage.
Couple weeks before his death, Ray rear ended a bus and bent the forks. He caused more damage but not all the damage. He just dented the scratch. The saying was, "You wreck it you fix it." He was still friend enough to use my things. But we argued over the damage.
I was a prick to Ray, not hanging with the our crowd of childhood friends much anymore. Partying and girls was my goal. I was bored with Neil Diamond. So I insisted Ray fix everything on the bike, because of my childish I'm rubber you're glue insurance policy.
I wasn't concerned that Ray broke his arm and nearly killed himself on the Suzuki, putting it up the ass end of the bus. "Fix it Ray; you're a jerk, you stupid Pole-lock; your'e an asshole. You said; you promised. How dumb can you be you Pole-lock, Roman numeral ass? You dropped out of college you failed all Lewis U classes. I guess no airplane mechanic for you ha ha." (Misery deserves company. I was supposed to go to Lewis U but I changed my mind. At least Ray's failing made me feel like my cop-out was the right choice.)
A week or so latter big shot Mike(me) seventeen year old, sneaking into the parents basement to avoid my dad and grab some sheets or blankets or whatever I felt 1 had a rite to. For I no longer lived with my parents home
My sister Marie was home from Urbana, and she asked me "Did you hear about Ray?" I responded, "What did the jerk do now?"
Marie said Ray drowned. How I wish I could have been a better friend!!!!
