Travels With Cleo The Gunner Edition

I know. It has been a long time between Cleo posts. In case you don’t remember, Cleo was a cat that I was on staff for a number of years. She saw and was involved with a portion of my life, and this is part of the story she would tell if she could.

Much of this story is BC. Before Cleo. There are three eras in my life. BC, CE (Cleo Era) and AC (After Cleo). You might want to pay attention to that timeline, it will be on the exam at the end of this series.

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Gunner. What can I say? He’s the guy I met up with as ‘best friend’ at about the age of 3. We were in the same Sunday School class. He was a sorta mouthy kid that was just my type. We really started to bond when we started Kindergarten together. I don’t exactly remember the details but by first grade we were basically inseparable.

I should tell you right now that his name wasn’t always Gunner. That came about in the 6th grade I think. Up until then he had the perfectly serviceable name of Larry. There was a specific incident in his life (that I was oddly not involved in) that caused him to become Gunner. Trust me when I say his name change was as inevitable as the tide.

We weren’t twins by any means. He tended to pudgy, and I had to stand just right to make a shadow. He was peaceful and pacific and I would fight at the drop of a hat. He was incredibly laid back and I wasn’t. But we were absolutely on the same page when it came to doing stuff. What one of us didn’t think of, the other did.

It was maybe third grade when he first spent the night at my house. He introduced himself to my father by taking a terrific hack at a golf ball, letting the club slip out of his hands and watching it’s slow and inevitable progress to the middle of my Dad’s back. Welcome to the family.

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By the time we got to junior high we were like two parts of the same image. Generally speaking, when you saw one of us the other wasn’t far off. We hunted and fished. A lot. Both had motorcycles at the age of 14. His was the way cool Honda S90. Mine was a much more pedestrian Yamaha YG1 KT. Mine was much more suited to the dirt, and his was just fast on the street. We rode tens of thousands of miles together on those two bikes.

If you are starting to get the idea that we were close, we were. We shared everything except girl friends. We were both funny that way.

I stopped in to see Gunner on the Fourth of July this year. It had been 23 years, near as we could tell. It’s one of those deals where I always meant to call or stop (He’s had the same phone number since he got out of the Navy. Better than 40 years.) and just never got it done. I stopped because I’d heard he had Cancer and that it might be imperative that I take my shot.

We picked up right where we left off, maybe even the same conversation. This incredibly vibrant and vital man is weak as a kitten with the same attitude that attracted me 65 years ago. Next year is our 50th High School reunion. I hope we both can make the scene. It just wouldn’t be right without us.

If you’ve stayed this long, thank you. If you are wondering how Cleo might be a part of this story, it’s easy. Gunner was the best man (of course) at my wedding and I at his. That means he partied with Cleo to a significant amount. There was an incident where Cleo showed up in the living room with an empty plastic bag. She was entirely stoned and laid around dazed for three days. It was Gunner’s bag.

Just writing this makes me know that there will be more about Gunner, BC and CE. I hope you will come back to see what happens.