Yesterday I reconnected with Steve Butler. Steve is one of my oldest friends, one of those men on the periphery of my life who is yet instantly intimate. And then he's gone. The last time I saw him before yesterday was at the 20 year reunion in 1998.
I first met Steve back in the 7th grade. He was probably the first kid I met who was completely unleashed, but smart, funny and cool. Other kids I knew who did everything they wanted to were just badass knuckleheads - all dead or in jail now I'm sure. But Steve was a good kid, and yet transgressive. He always was a whirlwind of energy capable of busting out the kind of laugh that's immediately magnetic. I've never been the kind of person to look up to anyone but Steve was, well he was Steve. He was the kind of kid who could make teachers look at themselves and really wonder if they should be punishing him.
The only thing that could stop Steven Butler was himself. But he gave himself a very long rope. We took the entrance exam for Loyola and along with Alfred and Gary we made it. Unfortunately, Patrick and Vincent didn't make the cut, but still our little school, Holy Name, was well-represented. Steve played baseball and ran track, but like most kids from the hood, we were nowhere near good enough to complete against suburban Little Leaguers who never had to borrow other kids gloves to play pickle or pepper. Steve mastered the low hurdles and wore a white letterman's sweater from Albion Mills which was bedecked with medals. Steve had an uncanny ability to make everybody else look bad just by showing up.
We both applied to and were accepted to USC. Most people believed that Steve was destined to be an attorney who would smooth talk his way to fame and fortune. I, like most people, couldn't predict anything but that he'd make waves. In the short time that I was there, I know he tried to create the first multiracial, coed 'frasority' and that he had managed to become one of the most popular guys in the new Residence West. For some reason I always associate 'West with the Coed Naked Indoor Frisbee. But when I fell out with the bean counters at the California Student Aid Committee, I lost track of most of my collegiate friends.
I ran into Steve on several occasions in the years that followed. There was something about his ability to basically do whatever he wanted that made Steve the only person who could stop him. And so he wrecked himself a couple of times. I didn't know the details, but I could see the effects. He bounced in and out of several gigs and finally settled into the financial industry. Steve the stockbroker. That made perfect sense, but then again, so did Steve the used car dealer. Even in a degraded state, Steve had more raw potential than anyone I knew - and perhaps that was the problem.
In my way of seeing the world, there are several tests that determine whether you are going to beat the American middle class or whether it's going to beat you. The middle aged men who can laugh and joke about getting over these hurdles are the real winners. If you haven't smacked into them, you haven't lived. When I was riding high on the Internet Bubble, I used to say that I had survived a Child Custody Battle and an IRS Audit. All I had to do was beat a Felony Conviction and I'd have the triple crown.
Like me, Steve grew up scrappy in the 'hood. So I knew that if he got knocked down, he'd get up again. But if you break your legs enough times, you can't walk straight. When I saw him with orange hair back in 89 rollerskating with this silicone chick, I wondered if he'd ever be right again, although even in total debauchery, Steve had style. All doubts were erased yesterday. Now that Steve is chilling in the Marina and obviously plays a lot of golf, I know he has won. Mention taxes and he'll get apoplectic on you. I didn't know that Steve had been a Republican since 1980, but it didn't take me long to figure out. He's also a lot slimmer and healthier than most of the guys around, so he's obviously conquered other demons. He was clearly the Full Steve.
As we chatted, going back and forward in time, we talked about the Browns including Celeste. Whenever I think about Celeste, I think of the ideal 'Essence Woman'. Back in the days, we thought women like that grew on trees. I have learned the hard way how exceptionally rare gifted blackfolks are and that if you are fortunate enough to have one as a friend, you owe it to them and yourself to be the best friend you can be. You can't tell this to kids in highschool - it's all about competition. But as men, we understand the delicate balance, the preciousness of life.
I've lived all over the country and am now trying to keep my roots in California. Steve reminds me that I am home. We cannot afford not to stay in touch.
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