HOW DO YOU MOURN A LONG-LOST FRIEND? [W, 3-24-21]

 

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith & Life for the Years of Winter

HOW DO YOU MOURN A LONG-LOST FRIEND? [W, 3-24-21]

 

I long wondered what became of Max. We were such good friends in college. Then he disappeared. I looked for him from time to time, especially once the internet got going, but never found him. Most of us don’t do anything worthy of an internet appearance until we die. Obits, however, always show up. That’s how I found Max, after 60 years.

We were both on the Residence Scholarship Plan at IU. It was for promising kids who could not go to college without help. In my class, there were three guys who were more than just promising. They were A+ students—my roommate, Tom Cone, plus Jim McKnight, and Max. [The photo above is Linden Hall, the leftover WWII BOQ that was our dorm.]

Max was very smart, but not a handsome guy. Quite the opposite. So he depended on his intellect to provide him a place to belong. He was also religious, but not in an obvious way. When we were sophomores, he went to a national conference for students of his denomination. There he met a pretty girl from Texas. She was the first pretty girl who had ever paid attention to him. He was immediately in love.

Max should have been a college professor. That’s where he belonged. That’s what he and Jim both planned on. Jim made it, because he didn’t get married, until later in life. Max didn’t realize how difficult it would be to go to grad school with a wife… and child. Yes, before he graduated even, they had a little girl. 

Max and I were used to running around together, so when he and Cecile married, naturally Helen and I ran around with them, even though we weren’t married yet. We had good times. It was great to see Max so happy. When I went to a jewelry shop downtown to pick out a surprise engagement ring for Helen, I took Max along, for advice, and support.

I don’t think Max gave up his dream of grad school right away, but with a wife and child, he had to get a job. After he got his bachelor’s degree, they moved to Indianapolis, got a job and an apartment. We kept in touch enough to know where each other lived. So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Max showed up at our parsonage door in Cedar Lake one night, even though it was a long way from Indy.

He was holding a paper sack with a few household items in it. He also had a purple blanket. He asked us to keep those for him until…

Turns out that Cecile had a calendar of goals for Max to achieve. A certain sort of job by a particular date, a certain level of salary by another, a promotion by another. The problem was, Max didn’t know about the calendar. He had no idea there were any goals or deadlines. But when he missed one, Cecile called her father in Texas. He came up with a truck and while Max was at work, loaded up Cecile and the baby and all their possessions and took them away. All Max found when he got home was that blanket and that sack and that calendar.

He dropped out of sight. Said he would give us a new address, but he never did. At first, I was worried. Later I figured that we, and the items he gave us for safekeeping, were reminders of times he didn’t want to relive. I understood why we were not included as he created a new life. But I missed him.

Now, I’ve found him. In his obit. It doesn’t say anything about those intervening years. No list of survivors. No photo. It only gives his birth & death dates. Nothing for me to think about as I grieve for him, as I pray for his soul.

How do you mourn a friend you haven’t seen in 60 years? I thought about Max often in those years, but always just as a memory. Some are sad memories, like a paper sack of memories, handed over to others for safekeeping. But some are good memories, talking and singing in dorm rooms, going to movies, walking back and forth to classes, hearing Max and Jim argue the way really smart guys do.

I do what I can. I pray for him, and commend his soul to God.

John Robert McFarland