Long ago, when I was, maybe, two years old.... I lived in Edina, MN with my parents and my older brother. There were lots of other families around us with kids a little older than me. Right next door to us was the Larson family. My earliest memories include members of their family in most cases. There was my first word (as I remember the story). I was sitting on the lawn with my mom and my mom's best friend, Sue Larson. We saw an airplane go by, and as I heard my elders talk about it and point, I spit out something that resembled "airplane". Another time, when I was 3, I was playing with my brother and his best friend, Mark Larson in the basement. Mark lifted an empty suitcase above his head. I, not wanting to get bashed on the head with it, took off running. I didn't keep my feet too well. I ended up falling into a desk and getting six stitches out of the ordeal. My brother reminds me of a phrase that we made popular in our youth, "Wanna make a bet with Mark Larson". I don't remember what it meant, but it must have been important. Of course I was babysat by Barb Larson (whom I met much later in my life - she had shrunk terribly. Probably the difference in perspective from a 5 yr. old to a 22 yr. old.) When my sister arrived from Korea, one of her good friends was the neighbor, Dawn Larson. But the story that I remember most fondly is about Mr. Larson. Ned. Choc. All I remember about the story is that I was eating chocolate ice cream at the Larson's house. Maybe my whole family was there, I don't remember, but at least the kids were there. And I asked Mr. Larson for some more in the way any 2 or 3 yr. old might. I just said "Choc". It stuck. From then on, I called him "Choc". I never intended to name him, but since then, he was Choc to me. My dad reminds me of this when we sometimes refer to him.
I never really knew him very well. He and his family moved away from Edina when I was still young. I haven't followed up with any kind of relationship. I only know about him because my mom and Sue still keep in touch.
But his passing leaves me in wonder and sadness. Because his story touched mine in a beautiful way - if only for a short time. And I remember the times of the innocence of childhood - when I was a child, when I was closer to innocence. It stirs up in me a strange desire to be back in the fairyland of childhood. (Two seconds of thought blast away the sappy, foggy emotionalism.) Yet I'm a little less because there is one less witness to my story; more than an eyewitness, a friend on my journey. Hopefully, I might have been a small, friendly face on his.
Rest in Peace, Choc. God will remember you at the end of all this toil, and may His mercy rule the day for all our sakes.
(image gratefully, if unwillingly, donated from http://galerievie.com)
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