"The Mayor" from Jen Wells
Jen Wells wrote this...
That first semester at LBJ, I often wondered what I was doing there. I felt too short, too Jewish and too NY. My brown hair was the wrong color. Orientation scared me. It was led by central casting character and native Texan, Marshall Kuykendall. I couldn’t understand half of what he said and no one I knew wore cowboy boots, especially in August.
Thankfully at one of these orientation events, I met Rick – a short, dark-haired Cuban from Miami, who not only knew what Rosh Hashannah was, but even had some Jewish friends in New York. I soon discovered he knew NY better than I did. In fact, he knew most cities better than the people who lived there – just from walking around and around, like he did his summer in Hungary. However, he could never tell you where to go, since he didn’t know the names of the places or the streets.
Rick was like the mayor. He could find something in common with everyone. He was a New Yorker with me. He could y’all with the best of the Texans. And when he talked with his Dad on the phone, he rattled off in Cuban Spanish that no one but a select few could understand. And like most mayors, he had trouble saying no.
I’m lucky that he didn’t say no when he agreed to have dinner with me and with Jay at the beginning our second year at LBJ. It was the first time I met Jay outside of class. Neither Jay nor I were particularly happy sharing our dinner time with Rick, but we all went to Chuys together. After dinner, Rick had made plans to see more people at Baby Acapulco. Double booked became triple booked. Jay and I sat in a corner and bonded. If it hadn’t been for that night, there would be no Ben.
He was the only person whose bladder was smaller than mine. I could always count on him to stop for a bathroom break. His t-shirt collection. His penchant for cleanliness – “give me a second to take quick shower or brush my teeth.”
So many memories and wonderful discoveries of the perfect little divey place. Magnolia Café. Quackenbush. Kerbey Lane. Red River Café. Mexicana Mama and Magnolia cupcakes in NY. Anchovies and Panificio in Boston. The time in NY when he almost got run over and Rick banged on the hood and got into a shouting match with the guy in the car. Rick was convinced that the guy was Joey Buttafucco.
The last time we had dinner together in NY was April 16 of this year when I was there for a conference. Rick is the only one who looks at menus like I do. Rick, Jim and I walked all over the city and ended up at Max’s in the east village. I couldn’t decide between gnocchi and the lasagna. Jim persuaded me to get the lasagna, which was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Yet Rick knew I still wanted the gnocchi – so he ordered it, despite wanting something else – just because he knew I wanted to try it.
Rick’s generosity as a friend is unmatched. He always made me feel good about myself and supported and encouraged me, especially in my writing. He was my number one friend fan. I always knew he would read and respond to what I wrote. At his goodbye party two weeks ago, I found out that he shared my essays with other friends.
His devotion to and love of family always amazed me. Both of us lost our dads, which was another bond we shared. Rick and Jim could have traveled anywhere during their vacations –instead they went on family vacations and really loved doing so. It was easy to see the joy he got from being with his nephews and niece. When he came to visit us in Boston on June 20 (just six weeks ago) he was so thrilled to see Ben. He was wonderful with him – read stories and played on the floor. We were planning to all go to Miami together in the fall.
I can’t go on – He was the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had. So many memories, but really so few.
Jennifer Balgley Wells
August 5, 2005
That first semester at LBJ, I often wondered what I was doing there. I felt too short, too Jewish and too NY. My brown hair was the wrong color. Orientation scared me. It was led by central casting character and native Texan, Marshall Kuykendall. I couldn’t understand half of what he said and no one I knew wore cowboy boots, especially in August.
Thankfully at one of these orientation events, I met Rick – a short, dark-haired Cuban from Miami, who not only knew what Rosh Hashannah was, but even had some Jewish friends in New York. I soon discovered he knew NY better than I did. In fact, he knew most cities better than the people who lived there – just from walking around and around, like he did his summer in Hungary. However, he could never tell you where to go, since he didn’t know the names of the places or the streets.
Rick was like the mayor. He could find something in common with everyone. He was a New Yorker with me. He could y’all with the best of the Texans. And when he talked with his Dad on the phone, he rattled off in Cuban Spanish that no one but a select few could understand. And like most mayors, he had trouble saying no.
I’m lucky that he didn’t say no when he agreed to have dinner with me and with Jay at the beginning our second year at LBJ. It was the first time I met Jay outside of class. Neither Jay nor I were particularly happy sharing our dinner time with Rick, but we all went to Chuys together. After dinner, Rick had made plans to see more people at Baby Acapulco. Double booked became triple booked. Jay and I sat in a corner and bonded. If it hadn’t been for that night, there would be no Ben.
He was the only person whose bladder was smaller than mine. I could always count on him to stop for a bathroom break. His t-shirt collection. His penchant for cleanliness – “give me a second to take quick shower or brush my teeth.”
So many memories and wonderful discoveries of the perfect little divey place. Magnolia Café. Quackenbush. Kerbey Lane. Red River Café. Mexicana Mama and Magnolia cupcakes in NY. Anchovies and Panificio in Boston. The time in NY when he almost got run over and Rick banged on the hood and got into a shouting match with the guy in the car. Rick was convinced that the guy was Joey Buttafucco.
The last time we had dinner together in NY was April 16 of this year when I was there for a conference. Rick is the only one who looks at menus like I do. Rick, Jim and I walked all over the city and ended up at Max’s in the east village. I couldn’t decide between gnocchi and the lasagna. Jim persuaded me to get the lasagna, which was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Yet Rick knew I still wanted the gnocchi – so he ordered it, despite wanting something else – just because he knew I wanted to try it.
Rick’s generosity as a friend is unmatched. He always made me feel good about myself and supported and encouraged me, especially in my writing. He was my number one friend fan. I always knew he would read and respond to what I wrote. At his goodbye party two weeks ago, I found out that he shared my essays with other friends.
His devotion to and love of family always amazed me. Both of us lost our dads, which was another bond we shared. Rick and Jim could have traveled anywhere during their vacations –instead they went on family vacations and really loved doing so. It was easy to see the joy he got from being with his nephews and niece. When he came to visit us in Boston on June 20 (just six weeks ago) he was so thrilled to see Ben. He was wonderful with him – read stories and played on the floor. We were planning to all go to Miami together in the fall.
I can’t go on – He was the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had. So many memories, but really so few.
Jennifer Balgley Wells
August 5, 2005
posted by Concerned Citizen at 9:18 AM
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