Few friendships endure for a half-century

New board takes over at Rockwell Falls Library with one common goal

By Ken Tingley

Craig and I met on a football field some 55 years ago.

He was a tall, gangly defensive end who could be knocked over by a stiff wind. I was a compact running back with little size. We were Mutt and Jeff in those days with Craig often a head taller than me.

Our elementary schools were on opposite sides of town so we only had football that first year, but when we met again in junior high the next year, we found ourselves in the same home room.

He was a Tuttle, I was a Tingley.

Ironically, we shared most of our classes together as well.

The one constant from junior high through high school was our friendship.

While Craig got taller, although he was always rail thin, I did not. He was over six-feet tall and weighed 165 pounds when he became a starter on varsity as a junior. I was a 130-pound running back relegated to the junior varsity. I eventually quit the football team, but snuck into football games my senior year to see Craig play. I always rooted for him.

He went to school for computer science while I chased journalism.

I was in Craig’s wedding and he was in mine.

I’m the godfather to his oldest daughter and he is the godfather to my son.

He married his high school sweetheart and lives less than 10 miles from where he grew up.

I married a girl from Long Island who I met in Kentucky and moved five times in those early years before settling 180 miles away in Glens Falls.

We mostly stayed in touch, but even if it was years between visits, it was like no time had passed at all.

Relationships come and go in our lives, but precious few endure for a half-century.

A half-century later, Craig (middle) and I are still enjoying our time together while my son Joseph (right) gets to hear the old stories - again. It was a great day at the Superdome in New Orleans, except for the Giants.

We spent this weekend in New Orleans watching sports, visiting the National World War II Museum and reliving a few high school stories. I’m sure we changed as people over the years, but our relationship is unfazed by time. The conversations is as easy now as it was in home room all those years ago.

One other thing, Craig is as easy going and unassuming a person as you are ever going to meet. He would do anything for the people in his life and I would do anything for him.

After the Saints humiliated our Giants at the Superdome Sunday we had dinner with my son and his girlfriend out in the Garden District.

My son wanted to give his girlfriend context for why these two old friends came all this way to see a couple of bad football teams.

He told her a story about Craig being ejected from a football game. He was angry after a late hit and in a rare display of emotions, took a wild swing at the player. The player ducked and Craig caught the referee standing behind him on the side of the head.

The referee went down and Craig was thrown out of the game.

The irony was a year later, Craig was given the highest honor at our school’s annual sports banquet for his “sportsmanship.”

During our high school years, there were four or five of us that formed a bond. We called ourselves “The Duster Gang” because we were always in my powder blue 1973 Plymouth Duster.

I’d pick up each of my friends on a Friday or Saturday night and we would drive around the backroads of our rural town drinking Budweiser and looking for girls. Why we thought we would find girls on those rural backroads I don’t know.

Our senior year, Craig started dating a PomPon girl. That was a step up for our social circle and a step up for tall gangly kid who didn’t have much to say.

He started spending more time with the girl on those Friday and Saturday nights and I suppose we resented it. His girlfriend was one of the elite smart kids destined for careers and good schools. We labeled them “The clique” because of their elite status.

Craig passed one Friday night because he and his girl had been invited to a party at at the home of one of “The Clique” members. We had not been invited.

I guess we were bored.

Perhaps, it was the beer.

We cooked up a prank I’m still proud of all these years later.

My son was telling the story now in this fine New Orleans restaurant. I’m not sure if his girlfriend could relate. She grew up in suburban Atlanta in another time where bored young people didn’t drive aimlessly through rural backroads sipping beer and wondering what to do with their lives.

We parked our car down the road from the party and I grabbed the tire iron out of my trunk.ld

Inside the house, we could hear music and people laughing.

As my son told the story, I would add a detail, then Craig would add another.

I’m not sure what his girlfriend made of us. I don’t recall if she laughed. Perhaps, she was horrified.

I dropped down beside one of the cars and popped off the hubcap.

Another friend popped off another hubcap.

In those days, hubcaps were made of light aluminum and were often decorative coverings for your tires. They all had a different look to them depending on the make of your car.

We went from car to car popping off the hubcaps, then like Frisbees, hurled them across the front lawn. Considering the noise we were making, it is a wonder we were not caught.

We left the scene of the crime with more than a dozen hubcap strewn across the lawn, except for the four we kept - Craig’s hubcaps.

Laughing hysterically as we drove away, we stopped at Craig’s house and stacked his hubcaps neatly on the front steps. When his father came out, we explained what we had done and he laughed, too.

To this day, I wish I could have been there to see my preppy classmates wandering across the lawn trying to figure out which hubcaps belonged to which car.

Except for Craig, his hubcaps were gone.

By the time he got home, he was pretty mad. He might have stopped talking to us for a couple days, but Craig could never stay mad at anyone for very long.

I laughed again when my son finished telling the story. I had not thought about that night for a long time.

When we were done with dinner, I helped Craig to his feet and he grabbed his cane. Craig was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease a few years back. I attribute it to repeated blows he took while blocking at the center of the offensive line in high school.

It has gotten more more difficult for him to get around the past few years, but I have never heard him complain or get angry about the hand he has been dealt.

I worry about my friend.

But we got him to New Orleans this past weekend.

And to the Tulane basketball game.

And the Superdome to see the Giants crushed.

We went from one end of the National World War II Museum to the other. I suspect I wore him out. We picked up a wheelchair and kept going.

That’s what old friends do.

Craig thanked me several times for being such a good friend, but I waved it off because I knew he would do the same for me if the circumstances were different.

This was our third trip over the past few years.

They are special.

It is just us and the sports and our memories.

Two old guys with a lot in common.

And nothing can take that away from us.

Craig and I spent an entire day at the National World War II Museum.

Library board installed

The Rockwell Falls Public Library has a new board president in Ted Mirczak, the former member of The Post-Star editorial board who I wrote about last week.

Mirczak was installed as president, Josh Jacquard as vice president, Rosemarie Gardner vice president of finance and Maggie Hartley as secretary.

Mirczak told me that the number one goal for the entire board is to open the library as quickly as possible.

The first board meeting on Tuesday reportedly went well with respectful public comment and no shouting or fighting.

All good to hear.

Capital Tonight

Hope you can tune in tonight on Spectrum 1 as I talk with Capital Tonight host Susan Arbetter about my new book “The Last American Editor, Vol. 2.”

The new book includes 90 more columns and makes the case of why commentary and perspective are more important than ever in our reading.

Book sales

Great to see the continued book sales at the Chapman Museum and Ace Hardware recently.

With Christmas quickly approaching, you can also get my books at Battenkill Books in Cambridge, Northshire Books in Saratoga Springs, the Warren County Historical Society on Gurney Lane in Queensbury and McKernon Gallery on Main Street in downtown Hudson Falls.

January events

My local book tour begins in earnest in January. Here is a brief synopsis of where I will be speaking:

January 3 - Queensbury Senior Center, Noon.

January 9 - Senior Center of Kingsbury and Ford Edward, 11 a.m.

January 17 - Chapman Museum, Glens Falls, 7 p.m.

January 25 - Moreau Community Center, 1 p.m.

January 29 - SUNY Adirondack Writers Series, 12:15 p.m.

February 8 - Glens Falls Senior Center, 1 p.m.