My friend Junkyard Gary Watson died last night.
Gary had a face like a road map. Hard living had etched itself permanently into his skin.
Over the years, he eked out a meager living for himself as a house painter and junk dealer. He drove a battered old pickup truck. He collected still-useful junk from the curb and then sold it or traded it or gave it away.
I’d known Gary since I was a teenager.
Back then, he used to watch out for me, like a big brother. He was a lot more street-smart than me, and he occasionally managed to save me from myself. Like, for instance, the time I warned the old man that he was about to be mugged. This was a big no-no on the street, but I didn’t know that yet. Gary intervened on my behalf and convinced the self-proclaimed “Queen of Bank Street” to only beat me up a little bit instead of pummeling me to a bloody pulp.
A few years later, Gary found himself on a bridge, debating whether or not to jump. He wondered if there might be a solution to his problems other than suicide, and this was when he decided to give sobriety a chance. If that didn’t work, he’d come back and jump.
Sobriety worked. I don’t know how long it has been since Gary’s last drink. Maybe 25 or 30 years. If you’d known him before, you probably wouldn’t have thought he could do it, but he did.
He kept smoking though, and eventually lung cancer got him.
I like to think Gary died proud of what he accomplished in life. His daughter Janis. Sobriety. The fact that he eventually managed to buy a little house in Hull. Quitting smoking. Falling in love near the end of his life. Being a decent human being and a loyal friend.
R.I.P., Gary. I will remember you fondly.
(Here’s a post I wrote about Gary a few years ago: Junkyard Gary meets Marilyn Monroe)
No matter what they achieve in life, decent human beings will always be treasured.
you made me cry and now I understand what he meant all these years about the bridge.
Thanks Zoom. I didn’t know Gary but I know who you mean. And a handful of my own down these years. Aren’t we blessed to have our lives touched by people who live in the moment?
What a wonderful tribute. I only knew Gary to see him and by all of the stories I was told. He’s at peace now. Thanks for providing this background. Such a kind person to have in your life.
“Watching the world go by and pretending to be part of it.” is perfect. I know you’ll miss your friend and I’m sorry for that.
Decent is a very solid legacy.
That was very sad to read. He sounded like a really good person. My condolences to you.
Thanks very much to all of you.
sorry for your loss
Lovely tribute. Your words give us a glimpse into a life well lived and . . . . marks well left.
Condolences to you and others who knew and loved Gary.
Zoom, your tribute to an old friend is beautiful. He brought something special to your life but then, I suspect you did the same for him.
A lovely tribute.
Thank you Zoom. My parents knew Gary before my birth – maybe you knew them too – and I’ve known Janis since we were teens. Hope to meet you at the service.
Jen, maybe I do know them! What are their names? (You can email me if you like – zoomery@gmail.com) I haven’t heard yet when or where the service will be, but I want to be there.
yeah, gary was a cool cat – glad i ran into him again last year (thanks to you)