He was my 6th grade boyfriend, which basically means very little other than for a time we were ‘going’ together. He was in my brother’s class, one up from mine, and – crucially, he had the same last name as me, which, I’ll admit, is the primary reason I was interested in him. Sorry, Tommy but there it is.
Archie – a font of all things wise and unwise – had shared with me in 3rd grade that when I married I would have to give up my name. Oh hell no, I won’t – especially given I’d been alerted to this impending crisis early enough by Archie and, hey, there are a whole lot of eligible Muellers around. What can I say? I was 8, 9, 10, and 11! And, as now, quite hard-headed, stubborn, determined.
Give up my name?! Balderdash! Why that is a thing – ever and still – astonishes me. It really does. As to having such a common and dull last name – no deterrent at all. Hard-headed. Stubborn. Committed.
Tommy was a sweet kid. He was a good bowler, too. He and I were on two championship mixed teams two years in a row, kid bowlers mixed in with adults, the Pro-Am or some nonsense like that; our names are together forever engraved on a plaque in the local bowling alley (still there, you know I looked). I don’t think we even ever held hands while we were ‘going together’ and I don’t know what ended this great, ridiculous and practical (on my side) romance, … something or someone did. Probably me. Who knows?
HIs sister, Terry, was one year behind me in school; we played volleyball on another championship team for three years, but we weren’t friends. That Mueller family lived in Fleischmanns, and my mother – the most reliable sharer of gossip in my life (in fact, the only one when I was a kid) – didn’t say anything about Tommy or Terry or their parents. Generally, usually, this was a good sign, but of late, with Tommy’s death at 66, and his sister’s a decade or more ago after a long stay in our local nursing home, I have begun to wonder what really went on, pondering lives and complications I will never in fact know anything about.
As an adult, returning to my rural hometown, I used to greet Tommy with a ‘Hey cuz’, which always made him laugh. He was to be found at the bowling alley, where he worked nights to make extra bucks, and (I suspect) to bowl for free. During the day, he delivered mail; with his innate decency and huge smile, his reliability and doggedness (honestly, you have to be dogged to be a bowler) what a perfect job for a truly nice human. I saw on line comments from residents on his route that he was known for going the extra mile for folks, shoveling snow, returning down the route a second time with a needed package, etc. Yes, that tracks.
I know like I know like I know that we’re all mortal, that we will all die – yet for a few days after the news of Tommy’s death, I have to admit I was a bit shook. Too soon, too soon! Surrounded by family, the notices said, which lightened my heart. Rest in peace, Tommy. You were one of my favorite boyfriends.