The memory of all that, they can't take that away from me

Rueben Ruckman. I probably shouldn’t use his real and whole name, but it has such great ring that I can’t help it. My first crush (roughly) was named Reuben Ruckman.

It started when I reached behind a box in our third grade class room and found his Koosh (and don’t lie, you know what a Koosh is). Ok fine, his was exactly like number 2. The whole class knew it was his, I mean the guy and his Koosh were like Linus and his blanket. If you lived under a rock in the 80’s, I mean this guy.

So I presented to the Koosh to R.R.( I know, anonymity after the fact is pointless. I have no excuse) and he said, “oh I think some one must have hided it form me.” But then the boy followed his comment up with the most amazing thing; a grammar correction. “I mean hid it from me.” I was in love still in the fifth grade, even though, as far as I can remember, he never actually spoke to me again. And I think I would remember!

I do remember that in the fifth grade, Mrs. Ramirez (also a real name but I suspect there are enough Mrs. Ramirezesis [how exactly do you make Ramirez plural?] in the world this won’t be too much exposure for her) asked R.R. if he was listening. He said, “I was hearing, but I wasn’t listening.” That bad boy attitude refueled the fires of my heart for the rest of the fifth grade.

I loved four things about R.R: the alliteration in his name, his Koosh, his talent for word play, and the giant mole he had beside his lip. Ah memories.

It’s always kinda gone that way for me. First there is the hook. It’s that stupid little thing, that one little thing, that happens; it catches your attention and makes you say to yourself (and maybe your best friend) “Wow.” And it doesn’t have to be love either. Sometimes the hook is just a flag above the head of a kindred spirit.

And after the hook, there are the… things. You know. The thingies? You say “wow” over and over again because of the “thingies” when it’s love. And when they materialize in friendship…I don’t know…you stop worrying about where you are going for a minute.

You don’t even know about the thingies, until you have seen them 100 times and one day you realize that the more you see em’ the more you need to seen em’. They are so familiar but every single time you see them, they bring a flutter to your heart or at least remind you (feel free to fill in what ever they happen to remind you, for me it’s where I belong. The thingies remind me I am where I belong.

The hooks:
The way he says “have a nice day” after saving your life
The way he runs across the street to stop a stranger from driving away without her gas cap
The way he furrows his brow when he is trying to make figure something out or make something work

The smile that makes him look like he's sixteen

The thingies:
The way he still can never say goodbye to a new person without saying something kinda awkward
The way he still gives the shirt off his back, to anyone really, if he knows it will help.
The way he still furrows his brow when he’s trying to figure something out, especially when he’s trying to figure ME out
He still looks sixteen when he smiles


Or

How she smiles at you when she first sees you, even when she is just waking up, even if it’s only for three seconds be for she screams her demands for food
And then how she will always take your hand when you offer, even if she is mad at you
Can’t run without giggling, starts the silliest sentences with the most serious, “ok”
Hesitates and says “well…” right before she tells a lie
Dances like as much of a dork as her mother,

The way he makes bread dance by sticking fork legs in it
His fear of raisins
And the way he unexpectedly makes you laugh, and pretends not to be trying

How his eyes always look tired
The way he pretends to be nobody, but makes you feel less like nobody yourself
The way he will be a clown if that’s what the crowd wants, or a robber, or a fake scientist, a mechanic…
The way he smiles at you when you are being stupid and the way he looks at you when, for a rare minute, you’re not
The way he mostly won’t tell you what he thinks unless you ask, so volunteered information can’t be doubted
His neck is always tan

Her stupid pointy nose. The way she forces you to read the best book ever,
Bravely makes the jokes out loud that you were only thinking
Tickles your wrists when she’s telling you a story
The way you still see her face every time you hear a line from her book
Leans on the wall and looks beautiful when she is tired and bored



I only mention all this because it happened to me.
Recently. I don’t know if she is a kindred spirit, a soul mate, or nothing but dead weight. But she stood out from the others almost instantly.

I have a feeling, for better or worse, she will be around for a while; maybe there is more about her that I will learn to love. I am already discovering there are one or two things that may just grow right in to thingies. But who knows? I haven’t got my crystal ball.

She had that one feature, that hook that told me she was the one. I had to choose one so I took it on a hunch.


This is the door of my new car, Inga.

Inga,

I think you and I may have been made for eachother.