The summer of 1990 saw the death of countless brave Italian plumbers*in the neighborhood of my childhood, Rice Mill. I would like to think, looking back, that they did not die in vain. That their sacrifice amounted to something; something bigger than the sum total of their lives’ calculated worth by a cold utilitarianism mathematics. What that “bigger” was, I cannot say. But… I knew it was true in the part of my heart that words can’t reach. The part of my heart that died the summer of 1990.

Walking through the neighborhood in summertime with Lyle, my friend since pre-school, was a hallowed tradition of sorts. We bounced back and forth between our houses playing video games at one of them until the mom who ruled the respective home unceremonially ended our gaming and told us to “play outdoors” or to “get some exercise”. Once ousted, we walked to the other Nintendo at the opposite end of our small upper middle class neighborhood, to continue playing indoors free of the shackles of either exercise or nature.

One care-free evening after Lyle got Super Mario Bros. 3, we were forced to yet again make the familiar passage from one cool de sac to the other.

“Dude! The new Mario is so awesome that I almost forget about part 2 being the retarded cousin of the series. All the different suits are*so*awesome, John. Makes me wish I had a hammer head suit to wear when we go back to middles school so I could throw a hammer through the gym’s trophy case.” Lyle said in an awesome way as we sauntered down Springhouse Drive.

“Yeah, I totally know. I wish my dad wasn’t so cheap and would buy it for me too. I wasted my allowance I had been saving at the flea market last week on some crappy ninja sword. I broke it on the first stupid tree I hit with it and now…,” I said as I looked off into the never to be grasped future, “it’ll be at*least*another month before I can buy my own Mario 3.”

“John, I could understand your dad not being able to get you the new Mario if you only had a one story house like poor Larry’s, but you’ve got a*2 story, John!” Lyle said while shaking his head ever so lightly back and forth.

“Sometimes… I think… my dad wants me to think I’m poor, Lyle. I really do.”

“Why? That’s stupid! Is your dad a Democrat?!!”

“No no!! God, no! He’s a Republican, Lyle! You know that! It’s just that he thinks I should learn the value of money or something.”

“What the hell does that mean? How can you learn the value of money by not having it to spend? So do the poor understand money better than…”

“No, no its that… I mean… like, I’ll understand its value by knowing that it cost something to get it… I guess.”

Lyle’s feet stop and begin to fill with a rising indignation that escapes from his mouth after the disbelief fades.

“That is more retarded than the second Mario, John. You should make your dad play the second Mario after playing the third one and say, ‘Dad. This is what the crap you say about knowing the value of money is like. Lame and not worth putting into my Nintendo. So shut up, stop being cheap, and buy me the damn game already!’ I just don’t get your dad, John.”

“Yeah… to be honest, I don’t get him either. Maybe because he grew up poor he’s that way. I don’t know, Lyle. It has to do with “character” or something. I dunno…”

“One time my dad started to talk about “character” or some crap like that and my mom started to laugh, but tried to keep a straight face till they both started dying laughing and had to leave the room. Dad said we’d have the talk later after they get back from Europe.”

Nearing my end of the neighborhood, we’re hit by a funny smell. Strong and pungent yet unfamiliar, we have no category to place this alien scent. Emerging from the woods, a young man comes into focus. Somewhere in his early twenties and living with his decrepit grandmother, Todd worked at the Circle K which he drove/pushed his beat up car back and forth to. He was unkempt with long straggly hair he pulled back in a pony tail and was seldom seen not smoking a cigarette. In a strange unsettling way he looked like a skinny unhealthy Jesus with an Adam’s apple. I got the gist from my parents that Todd had made some “poor life choices” that I would do well to avoid.

Adjusting to the sunlight as he comes out from the wooded area, he calls out to us.
“Hey… uh… kids!”

Todd’s eyes are on fire as he wears a relaxed yet crooked grin. There was something about him that seemed off but I couldn’t place it. He pulls his blaring headphones behind his ears off, rests them on his shoulders, and then finds a crinkled cigarette from behind his left ear that was hidden beneath his hair. As Todd flicks and raises his green lighter to his mouth, his head jerks back slightly while his eyes lit up opening relatively wide. Regaining himself, he swaps the crinkled cigarette out for another one behind the right ear that he examines for a second, finding it smoother, he lights it up and starts to smoke in a somewhat satisfied manner.

“So ya’ll enjoying your summer?”

“Yeah… I guess so. We’ve only got one month left before we gotta go back to…,” Lyle answers with a matter of factness that kids usually use at an adult’s quizzing.

“Awww… that’s too bad,” Todd said with words not touched by the remotest
sense of sympathy as he exhales.

“I remember summer vacation and school and all that sh*t. You know one day… all that will be over, right? Ya’ll are going to have get jobs you f*cking hate and join the real world where life sucks. So you little f*ckers better enjoy this sh*t and make the most out of it ‘cause its going to be gone, and after that even your f*cking memories of these happy lil’ days will start to fade, and all summer will be to you is just the time of year when everything is just really really f*cking hot.”

Lyle and I stand speechless. I glance over and see that he’s clutching the Super Mario 3 cartridge tightly in his quivering hands. Todd bends over slightly putting his left hand on his knee to make himself eye level with us and grins as he flicks his unfinished cigarette to the side.

“You girls enjoy the rest of your summer, okay?”

He kinda stumbled away while he laughed to himself. For a good 10 minute we stood like corpses as his words sunk deeper and deeper inside of us. Never before had I contemplated the transience of my life nor life in general for that matter. My dad’s allergy to pet dander had shielded me from having to say goodbye to furry friends as they were tossed into a cold merciless ground. None of my grandparents had passed on yet and frequently spoiled me in praise of my good grades. Always and forever, I had seen life as an endless cycle of school and summer with the Christmas holiday joyfully meeting me halfway to raise my spirits for the rest of the trek to Summer’s sweet perpetual embrace. Life was a game with unlimited continues where you got an extra 30 men if you knew the right code to put into the title screen. Now… I caught a glimpse further through the hourglass of time and saw the unforgiving grains of sand that were covering over me slowly but surely, until I am buried and forgotten, and the once sacred mantra “Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A” is but the mumblings of a tired and broken old man whose mind and time are now gone. That moment in time of my sixth grade Summer forever broke the way I viewed every moment after that. Childhood had died. Game over.

Later that night, we egged the hell out of that loser Todd’s car. I tried slashing his tires too but the damn blade broke on the butterfly knife that I bought at the Flea Market. I think I finally understood what “character” was that night, too. When the blade snapped on the tire, I still managed to use it to scratch what was left of the faded paint on Todd’s bomb even though it was hard to find amongst the rust in the night’s darkness. I never did buy my own Super Mario 3, but my 401k is pretty damn good and I should be up for partner at the firm soon if I don’t drink myself to death before then.

Written by Treismac