Blast From My Past

When something unexpected happens to me, the worst part is that I'm usually not prepared for it. It's a lot like I hadn't even planned for it to happen.

Yesterday I was sitting at my computer playing some game or trying to invent a new resume that would be met with something other than derisive laughter when my dog went nuts. He does that a lot, being part of my family, so after a little bit I went to see what was bothering him this time. It's usually something simple, like rapists or marauding bandits intent on destroying the family home, but this time it was an old guy with gray hair and a matching gray moustache.

He also had spit up on his polo shirt, which took away from his likelihood of doing me harm in my eyes.

"Do the Kremers still live here?" he asked, and I admitted they did. People selling stuff don't often know my name.

"Is that a pit bull?" he asked, pointing at Minardi. I thought it would discourage him if I said so, so I did. It's not a total lie, I think there may be some pit in him. "I have one, too," he said, ruining that obstacle I'd set in his path.

"Are you Richard Kremer?" he asked, and I told him Richard was dead. It's true, but that didn't stop him. I may have gone so far as to tell him I'm Russell.

This old guy looks at me and tells me he's Bob Weinstein.

When I was growing up the people next door were the Weinsteins (not to be confused with the Weinbergs, who were across the street). I thought at first that this guy may have to be the surviving father, but I was wrong. Bob was then, and is now, a couple years older than me, which may explain his gray hair and aged appearance. He doesn't look at all the same age as the mental picture I have of myself.
He called me Rusty, which sealed my fate and made me cringe.

We spoke for a half hour or so and he was a genuinely nice guy. Since he's a couple years older, we were never real close. It was a big deal when you're eight not to hang around six year olds, but he didn't tease me as much as some others I remember. All the kids right around our house were a couple years older than me, so I had to venture farther down the block to find Cathy, who was my childhood friend. Later on, when I could cross the street, I discovered a couple boys who were more into playing army and less into playing circus stars and throwing darts at me and into my forehead.

Bob let me know all about his kids and his older brother, Dave, whom I'd forgotten about entirely. To tell the truth, I don't remember much of my formative years at all, and struggled to find much to remember about Bob. Oh, sure, there was the time his mom spanked for us for climbing all over her car, but he didn't remember that.

I'll probably never see him again, but it was good.