When May of 1990 rolled around, my sister Theresa and her husband Jeff came from Chicago to visit. I don’t remember many details from their visit, other than it prompted me to go out and play basketball at the park. I played in a full court pick-up game and even though I was carrying 60 pounds that I didn’t need, I still had enough juice in my legs to pin this guy’s lay-up attempt against the backboard. It always felt so good to jump up and block a shot. What I also remember is that I was so out of shape that after the game I walked away from the park and barfed.
During their visit, I also distinctly recall waking up in the side guest bedroom and all of a sudden thinking about Meredith Nunez. She had been my grade school crush from 6th through 8th grade. It was completely random and out of the blue. I suppose there was some logic involved. It was now late spring, the flowers were blooming and ‘twas the season for romance! There had been almost zero interaction with girls my freshman year. I attended an all-boys Catholic school. I did not attend any of the social events. I was not involved in any school groups where I would have crossed paths with our female counterparts at Oakland Catholic. There is some kind of prison analogy here now that I think about it. Meredith coming back into my thoughts was coinciding with spring and renewed hope of life beginning again. The second half of freshman year had been a descent into a purgatory of sorts for me. However, the hope that I had was directly connected with going back to Chicago for the summer. I was banking that Mom would let me out for good behavior.
I begged my mom to let me go back to Chicago as soon as classes ended the first week of June. Mom agreed and within days I was on a Greyhound bus headed to Chicago. My sister Ann was kind enough to let me stay at her place the entire summer and I am sure that she was happy to have me back for a couple of months.
The summer of 1990 was good. I was able to reconnect with some of my friends. I had some semblance of a normal social existence. It was a rehabilitative experience in many respects. However, things had inexorably changed. I had changed and this had not gone unnoticed. My best friend Ranjit unloaded the ugly truth with the first words he greeted me with: Holy shit! You’re fat!” No “Hey man, how’s it going? Good to see you!”. Nope, Ranjit was giving me the wakeup call that I needed.
If Ranjit’s straight talk wasn’t enough, I received another reminder of how much weight I had put on when I caught up with other old childhood friends. The Furnald’s had been one of the prominent Gospel Outreach families in Chicago before they moved to Madison in 1985. Jacob and his older brother Joshua had been my good friends. I had not seen Jake in five years. We hung out one summer day in 1990 and it was fun catching up. His mom and his younger sister by a year, Hannah came to collect Jake in the late afternoon. Hannah saw me, stopped and sized me up. The withering look of disdain on her face was obvious. I picked up on it instantly and knew it was connected to my weight gain. Safe to say it was not one of my favorite summer memories of 1990.
Some of the weight would peel off during the summer. Greg, my brother-in-law had purchased a Soloflex in 1990 and I enjoyed the strength training. I was physically active, playing basketball on a regular basis. It was also time to update my shoes. I had learned my lesson wearing the heavy and cumbersome Nike Air Force STS. I was heavy enough, I did not need my shoes adding any additional weight. I decided to pick up a pair of Nike Air Max. Yep, the same ones that have been brought back 30 years later for a new generation of sneakerheads. The Nike Air Max was a running shoe. It was lightweight and the cushioning was great. I felt amazing running down the court in these shoes. The only problem was that they were not meant for playing basketball. My right ankle would come to learn some painful lessons over the next couple of years as I insisted on playing basketball in running shoes.
When I returned to Pittsburgh for sophomore year, I was under 190 lbs. I was still far from being genuinely fit, but in a better place physically.
I even went back to Great America (think Kennywood or Cedar Point if you’re from Pittsburgh) hoping to relive the experience from 8th grade. Alas, the 1990 version was a very different trip. Junior, Danny’s older brother and his girlfriend Rochelle took me and Meredith to Great America. Danny didn’t go for some reason. Hey, Danny was my good buddy, but we had plenty of time over the summer to hang out. This was my big chance! This sounds like a double date, right? Right?! I’m going to ride the roller coasters with Meredith. She’s going to scream and hold onto me. Maybe I’d even get to hold her hand.
Those hopes were quickly dashed. Rochelle rode the rides with Meredith. Every single goddamn ride. I sat next to Junior on the rides for the whole day. Oh C’MON!! I was confused and disappointed. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. However, I was no less enraptured by Meredith. Her long, dark curly hair, olive skin, the vibrant hazel eyes and her wonderfully flirtatious laugh had me swooning inside. While my quest to win Meredith’s heart was off to a less than auspicious start, I could always be distracted by sport. The World Cup, Italia ‘90 was happening that summer. American television coverage was spotty at best. Almost every single match that I watched was on the Spanish language channel Telemundo. I distinctly recall watching Ireland draw 1-1 with Holland at my sister Louise’s house. Her house had a small upstairs where I slept when I stayed over. The ceiling was very low and angled. There wasn’t much room. It was also hot as hell. They had a small TV upstairs and I watched one of the most anticipated second round elimination matches of the tournament as Brazil played Argentina. I remember so vividly when Maradona cut open the Brazilian defense, setting the fleet footed Claudio Caniggia free to score the only goal of the match. I absolutely despised Argentina! It was the solitary moment of magic from that Argentina team during that tournament.
The World Cup was a big deal to me. The tournament was part of my initial sporting memories dating back to 1982 when I was living in Ireland. In 1986, I was also in Ireland for the summer when the tournament was played in Mexico. I must have watched virtually the entire tournament in ‘86. It was strange to watch a World Cup in the US where no one really cared about the event unless they had foreign connections like myself.
I managed to get Ranjit to watch England versus Holland while we were at his grandparents’ house. We often ended up at their apartment in Roger’s Park off Sheridan Ave. When you walked in the door the strong odor of curry would race up your nostrils. The pungent smell was so powerful that it would take at least 15-20 minutes for my nose to get acclimated. However, after the initial assault on my sense of smell subsided, I wouldn’t notice it at all. Ranjit’s grandparents were always very, very welcoming to me, always offering me food and drink.
They used to have these plain, old fashioned donuts that came individually wrapped. Ranjit’s grandfather worked as a security guard at a Chicago public grade school and I am fairly certain that is where the donuts came from. They looked like they came from some kind of city lunch program or maybe even from the Chicago penitentiary meal plan for convicts. I loved those jailbird donuts. We would put them in the microwave with the wrapper on. The donuts would be so hot when they came out that you had to wait a few minutes before eating them.
Ranjit’s grandfather was always slightly wary of how excited I would get during sporting events. Ranjit’s family in general seemed to view me with a type of bemused befuddlement. I was always very polite and respectful. I won points for respectful comportment. What confused them was how excited and rowdy I would become during a sporting event. The yelling and jumping around that would ensue was disconcerting and potentially worrisome from their point of view. A radical transformation would occur. Did I have a mental problem? Was this a behavioral disorder? The level of my fervent investment was always a source of concern and wariness for them. His grandfather would often quiz Ranjit in his thick, gravely Indian accent, “Why does Jimmy act like one wild boy when he is watching these games on TV? Tell me why? He jumps around like some kind of madman. Then he howls and yells like he’s lost his mind. Tell me why?””
Ranjit LOVED getting this reaction from his grandparents and to a lesser degree his parents. His father would compare me to a horse when I would run around, sometimes leaping over furniture when something notable would happen during a game. But they were always very good to me, even when I was yowling at the television or tearing around their living room.
While in Chicago that summer I also reconnected with some of the Gospel Outreach crew. There were now youth group meetings that I would attend with Danny and Ranjit. The youth group was led by younger adult members of the church. Two of the leaders were a couple of young men that I had not seen before. These guys were new on the scene. So much changes in a year as a teenager. I remember watching and observing the youth group leaders as a fifteen-year old during the course of the meeting. Their mannerisms and the way they spoke immediately set off some sort of instinctual detector. I turned to Ranjit at some point and plainly stated, “You know these guys are gay. Right?”. Ron didn’t quite know how to take my assessment. It was fairly obvious to me. I was not particularly bothered but rather amused by the fact that we had gay youth group leadership. From my point of view this was a marvelously subversive comic situation. One of the fellas was later asked to leave the church when his preferences were more widely known by the congregation. Gospel Outreach was seriously conservative. Homosexuality was something that would have been completely rejected as a lifestyle by the church.
Love Hurts
As the summer wore on and August rolled around, I found myself in a dilemma. How was I going to work up the nerve to tell Meredith how I felt about her? I pondered and thought about what to do. Finally, I worked up the courage to put my feelings on paper. William Shakespeare I was not. Nonetheless, I composed a one-page note telling her in a rather straight forward way how I felt and wanting to know if she felt the same way. I handed the note to Danny and he dutifully delivered it to Meredith. Poor Danny, he was in an awkward position. I would badger him all the time with questions about his sister and ask for updates. Dan may not have embraced the situation with any real enthusiasm, but he gets major points for putting up with my romantic overtures toward his sister.
During that summer, I would have spent a great deal of time at Danny’s house on Sacramento Avenue. However, direct contact with Meredith would have been rare to nonexistent. Her room was on the first floor while I would always hang out with Danny and Junior on the second floor where their room was located. While I was boisterous and outspoken playing sports and clowning around with friends, I was deadly shy around girls.
Now I knew that there was something between me and Meredith. This wasn’t complete one -way traffic or a figment of my overactive imagination. Going back to 6th grade we would exchange glances and those moments would linger long enough to where YOU KNEW something was there. I could not go back to Pittsburgh Penitentiary without knowing if she still had feelings for me.
The moment arrived at the very end of my summer vacation in Chicago in 1990. I had spent the day at Danny’s house. Ann or Greg had come by to pick me up. As I was leaving, Meredith’s little sister Missy came running up to me. A goofy, mischievous smile spread across her face. She quickly handed me a note and scampered off. My heart started pounding and I was immediately flushed with adrenaline and uncertainty. It was an intoxicating and overpowering blend of emotions coursing through me. Ann or Greg must have spent a few minutes talking with Danny’s parents because I had the time to open the note in the car and read the contents. That is when my heart dropped. Meredith was fairly pragmatic in her response. She pointed out that I was leaving for Pittsburgh and what was she supposed to do with all these emotions that I had expressed? Even if she did have feelings…….. what were we to do? In retrospect, she was probably letting me down easy as best she could.
My feelings of excitement and euphoria at receiving the note almost instantaneously dissipated. The best comparison I can make was the crushing, devastating blow I felt when I was cut from the high school basketball tryouts. It wasn’t the same exactly, but the impact was searing and deep. The intoxicating euphoria replaced by a deflating disappointment. In spite of what was ultimately a rejection, I held onto her words hinting that she did indeed have feelings for me. I kept that note for the duration of sophomore year.
Gospel Outreach School and High School Memories 1988-1992 