More from Bob Barrie

It's two weeks since I last wrote something, but Tom's been on my mind almost every day. Hanging out with him was a large chunk of my childhood. It doesn't help that I am doing parent day care at least two or three days a week, dealing with both beloved parents at once, both are obstinate and often lucid by turns and then loving, then difficult. Mom really is into sweets these days, hates Meals on Wheels that Dad enjoys, she eats the cookies and cake, Dad eats the sandwiches and veggies. My girlfriend, an Ann Arbor native, Wendy (Scheu) Beth, recently heard all of this...

I go by your old house on Cambridge frequently. Somehow keep peering up into the windows to see if there's a familiar face, but it's been how many years since your father left AA for San Francisco and his family?

Tom and I invented a risky but thrilling game as little kids. You may have been there. We were in Burns Park and were climbing trees. The fir trees were fine with many limbs and you could climb up high very quickly, but the sap from the bark was sticky and rubbed into your hands easily. There were elms and maples too. There is still the maple that Tom and I climbed and found that if you went out on a sturdy branch, hand over hand, hanging from it, the branch would flex and bend and one branch in particular would gently let you down almost to the ground. The "Mommy" branch, it came to be known, and it was the "Mommy tree." I've told my nephews and nieces and girlfriends about it for decades. There we were, high overhead, me and Tom Wehrer, hanging on that silly branch, but screaming for "MOMMY!" Passers by in the age range of reasonable adults would come running, expecting the kid on the branch to be in great peril; and we'd drop to the ground and laugh. The adult, chagrined at being fooled by the hanging kid, would stalk away. At the time, we thought it was pretty darn funny.

And so the game went, until one day, the branch broke, and Tom, of course, was the one who fell. And he cut his chin, needing stitches. And your Mom was the Mommy who wasn't at all happy with the game, and me in particular, as I was a year older (and wiser?).

Your Mom took Tom to the doctor and instructed me to watch the kids: Paula, Lisa, Steve. I called my Mom for help. She said: "Read to the kids until Mrs Wehrer returns." So I did. I'd forgotten this, but Mom told me her half of the story about a month ago. She said she walked down to your house and found me on a bed with you three and I was reading Dr Seuss, and she figured you were safe, and walked back up Lincoln. I have no recollection of me reading to you all. Some time later, the broken branch was cut from the tree, and the stub is still there on the same tree, you can see it just off Wells Street at Martin Place.

I think Tom had a scar on his chin for some time. A reminder of a risky game. We repeated something similar in your yard jumping off a swingset, and again, Tom got hurt, and your Mom reminded me to be kinder with her son. We also got four of us in the fishnet hammock on the porch and swung it so wildly that we all crashed into the window and broke it, though I'm not sure if any of us got hurt. Risk taking was in my blood, as I've survived skiing in Colorado avalanche back country, rock climbing, and lately, riding motorcycles.

By the way, I still owe Martha an apology for another imbecilic incident that evidently I was responsible for: dumping water into the mailbox. Your father came out and scolded Martha, and asked where she got the idea. She promptly responded that "Bob Barrie told me to!" My brother John replayed that story to me when we were recounting Wehrer stories some time ago... So, hey, Martha: my sincerest apology for getting you in trouble!

Feel free to edit and post, if you wish. And all my best to you and your family...

Love,

Bob