True friends never grow old

by Ben Ewell

My office phone rang recently and our receptionist informed me "one of your former classmates is on the line."

Gary Barnes, my classmate and friend from the first grade at Brighton School all the way through graduation at Wellington High, and his wife, Linda, were on a cross-country trip.

They were in northern California at the time and said they would be traveling soon to visit Yosemite National Park near my home in Fresno.

Gary and Linda arrived a few days later. During our supper of Italian food, we talked about the latest news in the town of Wellington, our school days at Wellington High and Brighton, and, of course, being from Ohio, we talked about the weather.

We discussed our upcoming 50th year reunion next June and tried to catch up on the lives and whereabouts of our former classmates.

Gary, a former driver for Yellow Freight, spoke of the fun in retirement of driving the bus to Wellington school athletic events. Most of all, we talked about growing up in Brighton.

There were only a few of us from the Brighton area that year that went on to Wellington High, about 17 as I recall. Of those, eight or nine were boys and a few of us, including, Jim Grimes, Dennis Searles, and Bob Greenbank, along with Gary and I, lived out in the country.

Our farm on Zenobia Road was a couple of miles from Gary's home on Rt. 18. Wendell, Gary's dad, had built a shop next to their home where he could build or fix just about anything. I would ride along with my dad when a broken piece of farm equipment needed welding or the cutter bar on the mower was sharpened in Wendell's shop.

Nothing could ever top the motorized bike Gary's dad made for me. It was a bicycle with the rear wheel removed. In its place was a small, fat wheelbarrow-type tire over which was fitted a metal platform holding a small gasoline-powered Briggs and Stratton engine.

After starting the engine by pulling a rope, I would get on and the bike would move forward by tightening the V-belts on a pulley attached to the small back wheel. I would then hang on for dear life.

No, I didn't have a helmet, goggles, any protective gear or a license, or worried much about injuries. The Wendell Barnes's invention went very fast and a dog running across your path of travel would have meant a sudden end to everything. I rode up and down the country roads and over to Gary's place, enjoying my new-found freedom before being old enough to drive a car.

A true friend is someone you only need to see occasionally, and yet be as comfortable with them as ever. I'm not sure how many other former classmates of the Class of 1959 will visit our 50th reunion next year at Wellington High, but Gary's recent visit made me all the more excited about attending that event next year.