Rod Sparks and me

Me, Ron Lahody, and Rod Sparks in 1967

Lahody, Sparks and I were the Three Musketeers in 1966 and 1967 when we served in the First Marine Brigade on the island of Oahu. We hung out together constantly. Ron, the only one of us with any money beyond the $177 a month we were being paid, bought a station wagon that we named Pandora, and we were blessed with mobility.

Ed Miraglia (right) and me in a photo I had forgotten.

I found Ron Lahody on Facebook just recently, and then I found Rod Sparks there. I had not seen or talked to either of them since our discharge from the Marine Corps in 1968. Rod called me on the phone from his home in Arkansas and said he had a trip to Arizona already on his calendar, and asked would I like to get together.

Of course I did, but I wondered what it would be like to tell an old friend what I had been doing for 44 years. What would it be like to review it even for myself, and how could I make it comprehensible? The very thought of doing this was a bit surreal. I also wanted to scold myself for paying no attention to this friendship.

Rod is a cordial fellow, and easy to please. I thoroughly enjoyed his company, and more to the point, I enjoyed myself in his company. I also realized how grounding it is to have a witness to an experience that I had begun to think was my private domain. He remembered names that I had forgotten. I had forgotten that we named Ron’s car.

There is more to this story than getting together to reminisce, and the “more” is what this post is about. We discovered that our 44-year-old affection for our merry little band is still intact. If you have overlooked such a friendship in your life, let my experience be a lesson for you.

The reunion also struck me as an extraordinary gift from life to be able to review the road I traveled with someone who knew me before all this took place, and who had some loosely defined expectations of me. I saw that a friend from decades ago still feels affection for me. The shelf life of affection seems to be infinite.

We both wish Ron could have completed the trio. Rod was emphatic about wanting to plan a road trip together, and not too far in the future, futures being as unpredictable as they are.

The point of this post is that a person can have treasures that seem to have gone beyond their sell-by date, but they have not. It’s really quite amazing when you think about it.

Rod Sparks and Dan Wilson, 44 years later.