Paper Jet

     We set across from one another in primary school, and lived two doors away as neighbors. A quiet and reserve guy with a brother older then him and one younger with three sisters. Whereas with me, I was the oldest in my immediate family, the middle child in the extended family, the youngest boy of my Mom, in a family of 14. Needless to say I was much more adventurous then he, but not as settled.
     The difference between us came when I was put in a home for children, and at lunchtime, I had to walk a mile and a half for lunch or just sit and watch the other kids eat. His new hike was just above the school grounds although he often brought his lunch, I stood next to the school shop window to lift up the steps that was used for the little kids to order. For the old lady who was too frail to do it for herself, only to get a candy or two to keep my worms at bay, that nagged me for not taking the walk home for lunch. Sam was always a good friend to me, and made my schooling time awesome.
     While in class one day, a paper jet hit me on the arm. Eugene Ball had hit me with a jet, and smiled. Somewhat confused, I looked at the paper jet and thought to myself how was that even possible. Before long, whispers were passed between us boys as to what it would be like to ride on a plane let alone a jet. Just then, the teacher called the class to order to discuss what we wanted to be in life. Some said police, and others fire fighters, but Eugene Ball said without blinking, " I want to be a pilot. The class was stunned, for no one ever had an inkling for such nor was it heard of. But with his usual smile of intent, we gave him his freedom and in my mind it was as good as done, for I knew Eugene Ball, and he does what he says he will do. It was not long after that the bell rang for home time, and one by one we filed out the door. Sam took a slow walk up to me and said he also wanted to fly planes, but i looked at Sam and felt he needed to stick to the ground and be safe.
     Life pushed on and our teenage years found us in different camps of learning, my camp took me at the opposite end of the Island of Bermuda, and Sam was placed in a school too far away for me to remember it's name for this story, all I knew was I was in St. George's Secondary School and Sam was not with me. Some years later, I wanted to drive taxi like my Dad, but could not pass the driving test, and was floored when I saw Sam driving Taxi. How in the world did you pass the test for a taxi license Sam? "oh I got my hands on the test", he said with a smile. Passing me the test, to study, which I did ponder and wonder greatly and then took the test and still failed. To my horror, I told Sam i had failed, for the test I took looked nothing like the test he gave me, to which he told me there were two test, he only gave me one, but rectified his error and gave me the other to which I then passed. Sam was the man!!
     After many many years as a cab driver, I never forgot Sam, and his aid and help in my life both as a boy and a young man. Taxi life gave me work and stability, and became the one sure way for money to stay in my pocket, it became for me the single most important earner for me well into my later years. Only after two divorces and much time away from Bermuda, and the comforts of life in a Country where one is known I found myself on the cuff of poverty.
     Struggling to make ends meet, I began a life as a poet and writer, and still have not got the grove were words pay bills, and word came to me from Sam. Had not heard from him in many years, and there his voice was over the phone telling me he was going for his pilot license and wanted to know if I wanted to do so to. I had no money to say yes no way, and was too glad to hear from my wonderful friend, and before long silence took back over and he and I passed back into the think of our lives. Just think, this dude was becoming a pilot, just like he said he would, and I, just were was I in the mix of all this. There were no test he could hand me, no freebies to wish away my poverty, or hand outs to help win for me love and or delight. Life's test beckons us all, and cheaters notwithstanding. Sometime later, after talking to Sam's  brother, I found out that Sam had not only got his pilot license, but was flying here and there and everywhere.
   If Sam can fly a plane, surely I can write a book, and make money doing so. I may not see Sam fly a plane or ride with him in the air, but the hope inspired from this ole friend is one last gesture for old time sake. Thanks Sam, for a rich friendship, for I too aim for the clouds, and who knows,  I may get a chance to ride with you yet...nj