My Magical Walks with Helen
My Magical Walks with Helen
#3 in a series of stories drawn from my memoirs
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This is #2 of a series of true stories from, what I am told has been a very interesting life.
Here is the Introduction to this series - life story.
Against the Wind - The Memoirs of Lewis Harrison.
Maybe this will motivate you to begin writing your own memoirs?
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On a personal note: Please excuse grammatical errors, typos, repetition, and any general nonsense, and such in this post. I am getting a bit older now, and I have about 20,000 pages of information that must get published before I leave the mortal coil. I simply write and publish more than my humble editors are able to correct. If you find enough errors you are welcome to contact me about being an editor of my work.
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A 2 minute read
I didn’t know Helen Lopez well, but I did know her, in some subtle way that can’t be easily described with words. She was sensitive, intelligent, with a roundish symmetrical face that was a joy to observe. About 5’3”, she carried long straight light brown hair that came down and slide over her shoulders.
I don’t even recall how we connected, only that we did. From what I can remember she was a loner as I was. We walked slowly together, though this pace wasn’t a choice, I let her lead the way.
I was a loud, eccentric kid, who didn’t really fit in anywhere. A loner, and a loser in my own mind she was a splash of sunshine in my awkward existence. For those who knew me from the Highbridge neighborhood my nickname was “Crazy Louie.” In one sense I wore that name like a badge of honor, on the other hand I knew it marked me as a permanent outsider in my high school world.
Helen and I walked the same route from school to home. We shared the journey.
Helen lived about 10 blocks away from William Howard Taft High School, where we were both students, and I about five blocks past her house. We soon connected in our simultaneous pattern of getting home. It was a twenty-minute walk to her place and another ten or so for me.
The daily journey we shared, was her creation. I was a willing and generally passive participant.
One day, as I began the walk home I saw her standing on the corner of 170th Street and the Grand Concourse.
“Hey!” I said.
“Hey,” She replied.
“Are you waiting for some body?”
“Yeah, I’m waiting for you.” She answered.
And so our thing began.
Monday-Friday, at 3:10 she would be waiting for me. I would approach her warmly with “Hi” and a smile, and she would return the greeting. Then off we went. Without any commitment, or agreement, and without saying a word As soon as I arrived we would begin our walk.
I was, sixteen years old, and she was really pretty. I also liked the clothes she wore – a combination hippie military look. Tie-dye shirts, and camoflage pants, military boots, love beads etc.
I looked forward to seeing her. We talked all the way home, with patches of silence. We usually shared ideas about spirituality and philosophy. I remember our conversations striking me deeper than anything I had discussed with anyone before. We would jump from Kahlil Gibran to Rod McKuen, to Kurt Vonnegut and Richard Brautigan.
I never asked her personal questions about her life, and just in case you're wondering, she didn't have a Spanish accent, even though her name was Lopez.
Oh…and no, we never kissed, hugged or even held hands. Each day at three, she’d be waiting as I arrived. I felt over time that there was a deep fondness and warmth between us. I could feel it as we walked.
Monday through Friday, like clockwork, we met on the corner, walked, and I dropped her off, or rather left her at the front door of her apartment building. From there I continued on for the next 5 blocks to my own home.
Looking back, I don't know if she ever had other friends. Was she a loner who never socialized? Maybe she was part of a group of friends that I knew nothing about? What was her family like? Did she go to Church? Did she have loving parents? I never asked and she never offered.
This short daily walk after school was what we shared. Nothing more or less than that. We never had a date. No Saturday night at the movies, no TGIF. We never called each other on the phone.
I lived in a fairly lonely world by myself. I had a system for surviving socially in my nerd universe, and my friend Joey was that crutch. He and I had adjoining gym lockers, and went bowling together, every Friday, at Stadium Lanes, across from where the Yankees played. I doubt I ever mentioned Helen to him or vice versa.
Eventually high school ended, and there were no walks too have with Helen. Strangely, we never officially said goodbye. I don't even remember seeing her, or talking to her at the time of high school graduation. Looking back over the five decades since graduation, I can still remember her clearly in my mind. The military fatigues, the backpack, her soft and beautiful face, and her hiking boots.
The Reunion
In 2009, some Forty years after my high School graduation, it was announced that a reunion had been organized at Tavern on the Green, a popular restaurant and conference center in the far Western part of Central Park. I was excited about it, especially to learn what became of the people I had known back in the day. The thought passed through my mind of how nice it would be to see Helen again. What had she done with her life? I was really looking forward to seeing her and reconnecting as the day of the reunion approached.
When I arrived at the Tavern, I signed in, and joined in all the meeting and greeting that takes place at these events. We were each given our name tag. Attached to each, was our yearbook photo. It was at times, a bit unnerving moving from photo to face and back again. What we looked like back then versus now.
I looked for Helen, slowly weaving through the crowd of barely recognizable faces, but didn’t see her. I asked someone who I thought might know her, if they had seen her? But as they acknowledged, with a nod of the head that they did know her their face lost all color. “I knew her well”, said the women.
”Is she going to be here? I asked.
She responded. “you don't know? as she and pointed to a large cork board with pictures attached. Here were photos of all the people that had graduated from the class of 1969 and had who had passed away. Among them was the wonderful and talented singer Luther Vandross. Among us, back at Taft, he was the one with a clear vision for the future. He wanted to sing and produce for our favorite singers - Diana Ross, Ben E. King, Stevie Wonder, and others, and he had done that.
And there was Helen's picture…
It listed her birth date, 1951, and her death date, August 1969. She had died soon after graduation, some 40 years ago.
I asked around and found another person who though they had not known her well, did know of the events related to her death. Apparently, in the summer of ‘69, right after our graduation, Helen had planned on riding a motorcycle cross country and had been killed in a car accident.
Why Helen and Why Now?
Looking back, I can’t really say why Helen Lopez holds such a prominent place in my memory. I have often thought of her, our after school walks, and our conversations. I have done this as I have passed through my life; with challenges and successes, depression, sadness, loneliness, confusion, spiritual explorations, and the happy and meaningful life I am experiencing today.
I often think fondly about Helen. I’m not one for regrets, and still there is a small part of me that wished had gotten to know her better.
Whenever I hear this old Beatle song I think of Helen, and the time we shared.
Thanks for your time and interest in reading this piece about my life.
Lewis Harrison
AskLewis.com
If you enjoyed this article you may also enjoy this recent one on writing you memoir.
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Author: Hey there. My name is Lewis Harrison, and I created this newsletter. I am a transformational writing coach, teacher, and prepper. I am a proponent of entrepreneurism and also an author and seminar leader. The author of over twenty books, and numerous self-improvement, business success, and personal development courses, I am the former host of a talk show on NPR Affiliated WIOX91.3 FM.
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