Crazy Chester Followed Me

I'm sure others have known people like this so you can probably relate. You know how there are people in your life that are such characters that you almost believe that they could star in their own novel?

Usually the people I know would be right at home in a Southern gothic novel. Like the crazy neighbor who shot squirrels for the crock pot because he loved birds so much and the squirrels ate all of the bird seed he put out. He ran Arab-Americans driving Mercedes in My-amma (pronounce just so) off the road and laughed about it. He watched "Star Trek TNG" (that's the Next Generation with Capt. Picard for those of you who are Star Trek challenged) and the "Highlander" series religiously and seriously thought that there were aliens perched on the stars above sending messages down. He definitely was a character and I simply can't do any justice on the description of him because this post is not even about him.

This post is about another character. A character that I never really knew personally, but who I have gotten to know from my husband. I don't know why I am posting about this character, really. Other than I know some really good stories about him and because of his eventual tragic fate. So maybe his story is compelling enough for others to read. I don't know?

Anyway, his name was Chester and he was from originally from New Jersey. My husband met him in South Florida in the late 1980s when they both were working at a local pizza parlour delivering pizzas. Chester was gritty, older and wild and extremely attractive to my husband's adolescent whims of partying and revelry. Did you ever see the movie "Over the Edge" with Matt Dillon where there's this planned suburban town that does away with the teen recreation center and all hell breaks loose as a bunch of teens lock all the parents in the school during a very important meeting about the kids and then they burn a bunch a cars in the parking lot because they are so tired of being bored and catching grief from the local sheriff? Well, there's this hangout in the movie that's in a vacant house and my husband fantasized about having a similar hang out where Playboy magazines and Busch beer and the roaches are plentiful and everyone wears Iron Maiden t-shirts. I think that Chester appealed to my husband on that level. My husband was the quiet, normal kid in the movie and Chester would have been Matt Dillon's character. I also like to think of Chester of being Neil Cassady to my husband's Jack Kerouac. Anyway, I say this not so much to romanticize them, but since literature explores these kinds of duos I felt it appropriate to use as an example.

Chester was a bad ass. One of my most favorite stories about Chester is the one where he fended off a truckload of teenage punks looking for a fight.

My husband and Chester were attending a party. As they were leaving and in the driveway of the house where the party was hosted, a truckload of drunken South Florida teenage rednecks slowly drove by. There was the classic and requisite interchange of "What are you looking at?" that went on between Chester and the truckload. The truck stopped and the group of youths got out prepared to fight, as one of the boys came out with a baseball bat in hand.

Now, you have to know a little bit more about my husband to really comprehend the intense fear and apprehension he must have been feeling at this time. He really isn't a fighter. He's not wimpy or anything, and if needed to I'm sure he could hold his own. But at this time he was not feeling very comfortable with the unfolding events, as Chester assumed the ready to fight position and the group of boys tumbled out of the back of the truck bed. My husband saw that he had basically two options at this point. He would either have to jump in and defend his friend once the mob of teenagers, mind you with one wielding a bat, ganged up on Chester and get his ass kicked. Or he would have to flee and leave his friend hanging while at the same time preserving his physical safety. The last option was not likely going to happen because being a stand up guy, my husband has some integrity and a strong code of honor and friendship.

But Chester, being the unflappable character he was, stood up tall and seemingly without fear. As the bat wielder approached, Chester chided him. "What? Big boy needs a bat to fight his battles? Why don't you put that bat down and fight me fair?"

The bat wielder must have realized at this point that he didn't have anything to lose. He had his gang of buddies to back him up in case the fight with Chester got out of hand. So, he did the manly thing and dropped the bat, ready to fight fist on fist.

Quick as a flash, Chester scooped up the bat and started swinging it wildly and crazily-like a bat out of hell (could not resist the pun) which sent the truck load scattering for their safety. You see, Chester had outsmarted these testosterone pumped teenagers by beating them at their own game. Yeah, it was a cheap shot and dirty trick, but when you're outnumbered like that you use whatever weapons you have at your disposal. And because one can only assume that this group wisely sensed Chester's primal strength and bravado, they retreated and decided against engaging into this fight and further. As they all scrambled back into their truck they pleaded with Chester to at least give them the bat back.

Do you think he did?

Hell, no he didn't.

But that's just one example of Chester's character. Sadly, Chester passed away shortly after my husband and I started dating in college. My husband said that Chester was really trying hard to get on track. He got into some trouble with crack addiction and was trying to give it up when he died. He had had a turbulent relationship with his girlfriend and they were starting to get back on track too. When he died his girlfriend and him were out celebrating at a bar. When they left the bar they had to cross a two way divided street to get to the the parking lot. Chester went to cross and didn't look to see if a car was coming and was hit by a drunk driver going the wrong way down the street. I guess he figured that he didn't need to check that way, but tragically that mistake cost him his life.

My husband's father called my husband (who was not my husband at the time but you follow) to let him know what had happened to Chester. I had just moved into a little bungalow duplex and my husband was staying with me most of the time. I remember his sadness when he learned of Chester's fate. I remember feeling rather helpless at alleviating the grief he was feeling at the loss of his friend, and in some ways maybe the loss of his adolscence-as his life was quickly changing. After the dusk turned to nightime and my husband's rhythmic breathing signfied he was finally fast asleep, I remember not being able to sleep. I recall hearing a train whistle moaning in the distance and thinking that it sounded so sad and lonely. It matched exactly how I was feeling.

I don't know why the death of this boy that I never knew had affected me so deeply. I guess it had to do with my feelings for my husband at the time, as our relationship was very new. It might of also had to do with the sadness most of us feel when we hear tragic stories about people, even when we don't know them very well- if at all. It showed me how connected we all really are on this earthly plane and how our relationships with others shape ourselves and those we have future relationships with.

Chester will always be a part of my husband and the man he has become. Chester, on a much grander scale, also represents those larger than life characters like Dean Moriarty that I'm inexplicably drawn to. As it turned out I ended up with Sal instead-which isn't too bad. Nonetheless, Sal's journey would not have been the same without Dean, just like my husband would not be who is without Crazy Chester.