text: It's taken me a long time to think seriously about this former friend and someone who passed away at eighteen years old. He's someone I've never forgotten about, and he haunts my dreams. Joe was a really sensitive, loving kid who was always taller and skinnier than me. When my family built a house in the township of Mendham I started going to the elementary and then the middle school. I was in Mrs Thomas' class and it's likely there I first met Joe. His parents lived in a stone covered ranch house on Woodland Road and Summit Road. The house seemed to go on forever. The garage was the only room that was below floor level and the house looks like it was built into a slight decline to the left. I don't remember exactly how Joe and I met but he had spent some time in the Philadelphia area and he liked the Phillies. Star Wars was huge and enigmatic for us. But I remember standing in front of his house and our classmate Miriam was there with us. Miriam had found a woolly bear caterpillar and it was peacefully walking under a leaf. Joe and I went over to look at it and the woolly bear was dark, which Miriam said portended a very cold winter. I was living in Morris Plains at my grandparents' house for that severe winter of 1977-1978 and this limited my time with Joe to a few visits and time at school. When I finally got to the new house we got together more. There was a sleepover for Joe and his birthday was March 4th. The sleepover was fun and we all slept in the room over the garage. Then Joe’s mom cooked us eggs, bacon and flapjacks for breakfast. Afterwards I was on my way back to Morris Plains. Somehow I was totally enamored with that house. You could go from the room where the sleepover was and into the kitchen and common area with a couch where Joe's hamster went and his dad had to dig into the couch to get it. Joe's dad was pretty kindhearted, and my dad thought he was a scientist. Maybe he was, and I think I remember Joe telling me they'd been to the Philippines; of course, I might be confusing this with Philadelphia. Joe’s dad also had a bunch of Playboys in his garage and we helped ourselves to them at least once. Harmony Brook (hence Brookside) ran by Joe's house and he and I built a dam over a few weeks; Joe lead this project. Joe was also friends with Scott, who was two grades under us. Scott also lived on Woodland Avenue, and we went to his house. I tried playing Scott’s Atari dragster game but I sucked at it and kept blowing the engine. Whether or not this all happened in fourth grade or fifth grade, I don't exactly remember but by the time we were in middle school our friendship really seemed to take off. I remember us playing little league baseball. I was on the Coutts team with my two brothers and Joe was on another team and we had to play against each other. I was on this team for fourth, fifth and sixth grades and it seems like we played all our games at the Brookside community field or at the elementary school field. Joe and I finally were on a team together in seventh grade. It was much different than in sixth grade, and you had to steal bases, which horrified me. Then there were secret signs the coach gave us, such as a swipe across the chest which meant to steal a base. It was more aggressive, the practices seemed unorganized, and to top it off, the coach rarely put Joe or I in to play. During one game, Joe was in center field and the batter from the opposing team hit the ball directly to him. Joe tried catching it, but it stung his hand badly through the glove and he dropped it. Joe flicked his hand violently up and down to relieve the pain. When Joe came back in he and I got on top of the dugout together and spent the rest of the game there. It wasn't long afterwards that he and I quit the team and left baseball forever. I complained to a teacher that I wasn't getting played, but to no avail. Then I bagged up my uniform and gave it to the coach's daughter, who was a grade lower than me, and she gave it back to her dad. After this, Joe showed me his new computer. He had a game on it where you could fly through space with the stars appearing to fly past you, and we played for hours until I had to go home. My parents got Intellivision for me and my two younger brothers, along with several game cartridges, including Battleship, Space Armada, Football and Baseball. Joe came over and we played all the games, but he really liked Battleship, so we had a tournament that lasted from Friday night well into the next day. Joe and I had some of the same friends. One was Randy, whom I'd also met in my move to the township. Randy and I shared an interest in stuffed animals and "Laurel and Hardy". Joe and Randy were also friends, but seemed to fall out somewhat during middle school. Next there was David, who loved movies such as John Carpenter's "Halloween" and of course Star Wars. David was a bit of a prankster and we stole a golf cart from the Roxiticus golf course. I was scared, but Joe was far more relaxed, and that probably helped to chill me out. David had also recruited a cute girl from the sixth grade named Tammy, and I started getting a crush on her. I was also jealous of David for being able to get her to come on this adventure of a lifetime. David, Joe, I and Tammy all walked stealthily up to a row of golf carts. David had gotten a hairpin from Tammy. We all three stopped and David continued up to the carts. Then he jumped into one of them, and seconds later he was speeding towards us. "Get in, goddammit!", he hissed at us. We all jumped in and barreled down the hill together, Joe and I in the back with David and Tammy up front. It was a misty, cloudy early spring day, so we had some cover. Then we took turns driving the cart, doing doughnuts on the thicker fairways and avoiding the greens. We finally left the undamaged cart in a wooded rough area and all four of us skulked off. Then Joe and I had some disagreement and got into a harmless fight, rolling around on the grass and getting soaked while David and Tammy watched us. No punches were thrown, but Joe had some fight in him, yet he wielded it gracefully. I guess David and Joe were two of my closest friends in middle school, but both of them had been friends with George, whereas George and I were merely acquainted. Joe and George had kind of a love-hate relationship, but one day they had such a weighty disagreement that they decided to fight after school in Joe's driveway. Joe told me about the fight and I rode my bike to his house, ostensibly taking his side, but trying to stop him fighting. Joe didn’t heed my protests and down Woodland Avenue came George and one of his friends from school. I was apprehensive and I tried playing music in my head to drown out the coming conflict. Then George and Joe faced off and engaged in the stupidest fight I've ever seen, with both of them taking wide swings at each other's heads, connecting about half the time. I was transfixed, but neither combatant seemed to win. George pulled away first and then backed up. The saddest part was that they parted ways after that and stopped being friends. George trudged away and his friend tagged along, but I stayed, dry mouthed and heart racing. "Joe, are you alright?" I wondered if we'd have to put a piece of steak on his cheek, like Peter from "The Brady Bunch". Joe said he was fine, but I could see red marks under his eyes. Just then his dad pulled up. I looked at my wristwatch and it said it was five in the afternoon, and I wondered how so much time had passed so quickly. Joe's dad listened as his son told him about the fight. "Did you give him any shiners?", his dad asked. I thought it was a strange question, but Joe's dad was obviously proud of him. Joe and I remained friends through all of eighth grade, but it was different because David had moved away and Joe had stopped being friends with George and Randy, so we were pretty much it. But even we started diverging somewhat. Joe never changed much, except for getting somewhat taller, but I started growing thin mustache hair. I also began taking on a somewhat mesomorphic appearance. By high school I was shaving first my mustache and then my entire face. Joe on the other hand kept his boyish voice; he likely could have been in a choir! He also didn't have any facial hair, but maintained his mop of dark brown hair. Even then he probably looked a bit like Justin Bieber. I thought nothing of it, but Joe's appearance definitely caught the attention of other boys in our class. They started calling Joe "gay", and made fun of his voice. There would be call outs in class, like "Joe's gay!", and I can't imagine the teasing in Joe's other classes. Joe and I were in Mr Blasko's history class together, and we had to do presentations about halfway through the year. Mine went off without a hitch. A guy named Marc, who often wore an Atari shirt went next, and he kept the class and Mr Blasko in stitches. Then it was Joe's turn. Poor Joe couldn't even get through his presentation. Some of our male classmates were telling him to make his voice deeper. Joe said aloud, "Oh, come on! I can’t help it!" Then someone said, "Joe's gay!" for about the hundredth time. Mr Blasko didn't do a damn thing, but after all it was the rough-and-tumble early 1980s. I turned around at one point to look at Mr Blasko, but he just shrugged. Then one of the big girls got up and told the boys to shut up. They did, in shock, and Joe finally finished. I couldn't understand why people were so mean to Joe. He was so nice to me, and I loved his laugh. His interest in cars and computers and other technology, as well as his interest in coin collecting got me to see a new world. We didn't start with much in common in fourth grade, but we enjoyed each other's company. But I had my own limits, and one day they were rudely pulled out of me. My cousin, whose name is Dick, and who was also one year behind me, was at my house one day. It was a few days until I was to start freshman year at Mendham High School. I was up in my room, and in came Dick. He asked me why I was still friends with Joe. I felt like he was interrogating me, so I just stared at him and said that Joe was my friend. I wish I could say that I stood my ground, but Dick ground me up. Dick said, "Joe is gay, and if you don't want to be seen as gay too, then stop being friends with him." Then Dick walked out of my room. I thought about how I wanted in high school to be more well known by the ladies. I thought back and realized Joe hadn't been with girls much and hadn't attended the "cotillion" I had been to with most of my class, as well as to dance classes in eighth grade. As the first day of school approached, I came up with a contingency where I simply would not initiate get togethers with Joe anymore. At least if there were any chances, no one would doubt me. But the first day of school would prove me wrong, because Joe and I had the same earth science class. When I walked into the school I started seeing people I hadn't seen since I'd lived in Mendham borough, and it was like I was back. There was Mary, with whom I was friends in kindergarten, and Jay, who would bike over to my house on Mountain Avenue. Then I went to my earth science class, and the room was full of freshmen. As I rounded the corner to my left, I saw Joe and he saw me. Immediately he was begging me to sit with him, the seat to his right being empty. I just strolled right past him and took an empty seat behind him. He looked back at me, crushed. I didn't even look up at him. Then he faced forward as Mr Skala started class. My cousin, Dick, had successfully broken up our friendship. It left me wondering if Dick came to my room specifically that day to tell me to stop being friends just for fun. But as the days went on, Joe started becoming friends with some of the same people I was befriending. Jay was an archer, and another friend, Mark, was in my German class, and he introduced me to "The Dark Side of the Moon". There was also John, with whom you could never be correct on anything, but we hung out a few times. John liked Scandal, and he played his "Goodbye to You" LP for me. Mark recorded Pink Floyd for me, as well as "Moving Pictures" from Rush, and sold me his Walkman. I almost froze to death on my bicycle listening to it while pedaling home from John's house. Jay and I got on the wrestling team and practiced together. But then one chilly and overcast day Mark, Jay and I got a ride to a familiar looking house on Woodland Avenue to look at a Mustang. We stood on Joe's doorstep and Mark knocked. Joe came out and greeted him and Jay, but he didn't say anything to me. Then Joe motioned for us to go to the garage. There was a very used-looking Shelby. Joe had gotten it from Jay, and I found myself wondering why he’d gotten a car without having a driver’s license yet. But I just kept my mouth shut as Joe, Jay and Mark talked about the vehicle’s timing. “Do you know what timing is, Jim?” Mark asked me, giggling. “Oh, Jim has no idea what that is!” said Joe, laughing. Sensing the tension, Mark said “Why don’t we show Dimdy Doo what timing is?” That was a nickname Mark and Jay had coined for me. At this, Joe laughed uproariously. “Dimdy Doo! Is that what you call him?” Joe gleefully locked eyes with me, but it lasted only a second. He then proceeded to pop the hood, bringing the seven liter power plant into view. Mark connected the timing light and pointed it at the harmonic balancer. They performed the adjustments in a few minutes, and even I thought it sounded better. It was getting dark, so afterwards Mark, Jay and I left. I went home feeling totally foolish because Joe had made some really great friends and gotten a car while my mom was making me do wrestling, a sport I knew nothing about! I really didn’t see much of Joe after this encounter at his house. At least he let me stay to see his car. But then high school passed by and I didn’t see Joe again until the last two quarters of senior year when we took an auto mechanics class together. Mr Mineo, our teacher, really taught a great class in which we all but dissected a Chevelle and were introduced to car computers, albeit without the OBD II port. Then we talked about how fossil fuels were formed, and that dinosaur shit was part of it; Joe, sitting next to me, laughed, looking at me, this time with no glee at all. I smiled and laughed too. In August 1986 I went to start my undergraduate studies at Shippensburg University. It was very early in the year, and my mom called me to tell me that Joe Bogdon had passed away. I couldn’t believe it. He had been helping his dad build a wall. Joe was helping to dig a trench, and a wall of bricks fell on top of him, snuffing out his young life. My parents said maybe I should drive to his house, but I haven’t yet. I feel ashamed for unilaterally ending the friendship. But maybe I can still go