Ward of the Rings

After last month’s high—our anniversary cruise and Europe trip—I suppose a dip was inevitable. Back to the same old grind. Different day, same old stuff.

Except for closing my rings.

The fitness app on my watch has three daily goals represented by rings on a circle. As I walk, exercise, move, the circles move like the hands on a watch.

My pre-trip performance was poor; days of playing guitar, writing, feet up watching NF, barely got them to six o’clock. After two weeks of hoofing it around foreign cities, they all closed. Sometimes twice.

I resolved to keep this up, and for over a month, my watch has been cheering me on as my averages soared. Darryl, the past week has been your best since December of 2023!

But besides this, nothing has changed. My best friend Rick still struggles with early onset dementia and his wife says he’s spending more time in bed. A birthday came and went. The same to-do list, uncompleted tasks staring at me accusingly.

I’ve had no desire to write; the creative well has been dry. 

Blecch.

Last week, my spirits lifted when I saw that my alumni club was hosting the annual preseason cookout. For exiled Florida Gators here in NC, it’s a lifeline to our homeland.

As I sat down with my plate of pulled pork and coleslaw, I did a double take at the guy sitting next to me. He looked very familiar and when I heard him talking to the guy across from him, I was almost sure. I snuck a look at his name tag. Sure enough.

Ward.

Dang. I hadn’t seen this guy in 40 years.

Ward lived next door to me in the dorms and was a high school friend of Rick’s. We hung around with the same kids and I got to know him pretty well during our years at Florida. I wondered about his name; the only Ward I ever knew was Beaver’s dad.

I was never sure how him and Rick were friends because they were so dissimilar. Rick could laugh at himself; Ward bristled at criticism. Rick was generous to a fault; Ward was notoriously thrifty. Rick was a thoughtful listener and a good conversationalist; talking with Ward was always a bit awkward.

Ward’s parents retired to the town just north of Boca Raton…Delray Beach…and the three of us drove home together on breaks. The first time Rick and I dropped him off, things immediately became clear. His parents looked and acted exactly like Seinfeld’s parents in the fictional town of Del Boca Vista.

His dad was a retired blue collar guy and his snarky commentary was laced with caustic references about the three college boys who “didn’t know shit from shinola.” His mom served us a snack that included orange juice. It looked like water with a teaspoon of orange coloring added and as Rick and I sipped it and looked at each other, she explained that she made it last much longer by adding four cans of water to the concentrate instead of one.

The exchanges between Ward and his parents became sarcastic and biting in a very short time, and Rick and I excused ourselves at the first opportunity. As we drove away, we wondered out loud how Ward was ever gonna make it through life with his towering walls and raised drawbridge.

I broke the ice by asking him to pass the BBQ sauce. His eyes drifted over me for a disinterested second as he handed me the bottle.

“Almost as good as eating Sonny’s Real Pit off the floor,” I said, a reference to one of our old inside jokes. He gave me a blank look.

“Huh?” he said. I thought and tried again.

“Don’t tell Darlene about the missing toilet paper.”

This time, the confused look was replaced by wariness.

“What?” he said. He looked at the guy across from him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

I gave up. “Ward,” I said, pointing to my name tag. “It’s me. Darryl.”

Recognition finally dawned and his face lit up. “Darryl? What… how did you…”

Now on secure footing, the next half hour was an animated rehash of our UF days that left the other guy…and Sue, sitting across from me…bored to tears. They both finally excused themselves, leaving Ward and me to leapfrog through four decades.

“So you married?” I asked. “Kids?”

Sorrow crossed his face, a cloud passing before the sun. “No,” he said. “I never met anyone.”

“Still working as an engineer?”

Negative on this one, as well. I learned after graduation, he moved to California where he worked in his field for 20 years. He moved to New Jersey where he ran some sort of business, finally retiring to the town next to mine in NC. It sounded like he spent a lot of time alone.

Finally, we ran out of things to say. He stood up from the picnic table, picked up his plate and stuck out his hand.

“Good to see you, he said. “Maybe I’ll see you at a watch party or two.” We shook and he walked out into the warm afternoon sunshine.

Later that day, as I was walking to close my move ring, I reflected on it all. 

This kid who I knew in my first quarter of life; all of us just starting out, finding our way, laying the tracks for careers, families, lives. Then the missing second and third quarters where everything significant happened; and finally bumping into each other again in the fourth quarter.

I considered all the water that had swirled around my pilings during that time and how different our lives had turned out. When I introduced Sue, I saw a flash of something; she was beautiful that day with a ponytail and Gators cap, and her kindness is always apparent. And when I mentioned having three kids, something like wistfulness appeared fleetingly on his white beard-stubbled face.

Rick can now barely remember what day it is; and Ward is living in a rented house, parents long gone, barely speaking to his scattered siblings. I wondered why of the three of us, Providence had smiled on me.

Why I was blessed to find someone who was into the same things as me. Why I was fortunate enough to have a lot of friends and work at the same company my entire career. Why God gave me three wonderful kids who I see all the time. 

Why I’m closing my life rings when so many others are struggling.

I’m not sure, but I know as soon as the clock turns 12:01 am, my rings reset to zero. 

And my only option, as in life, is to keep moving.

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