An Old Friend Died

Years ago, perhaps 1960 or 61 our high school football team began two a day practice in mid-August. Fuzzy Boyak, a fellow student and a year ahead of me in school came out for the football team. Fuzzy had not participated in sports, although I think his family had an athletic history. Fuzzy was a student, I do not know if he was a scholarly type student or what school social group he fit into. I know he was personable, he was known around school, but in my circles he was pretty much nondescript. Yet he came out for football, but wasn't a jock. Fuzzy was a year ahead of me, I graduated in 1962, Fuzzy graduated in 1961. I think he was a Junior when he came out for football.

I think he and I touched on his motivation, but I'm not sure I remember what it was. I believe he felt his high school years were passing without his making a mark. I think we talked about his concern about not participating, not trying, or some reasoning similar to that.

For whatever reason I took a shine to Fuzzy and it was reciprocated. Years later he would tell me that he appreciated my reaching out because he wasn't in the "in" crowd, not even in his same grade.

One thing I do remember is we walked down to "Mary's Grill" after practice every afternoon and had a hot fudge sundae. It became a daily routine, I honestly don't know if we did that every day because I'm not sure I had the money to afford a hot fudge sundae every day. It seemed like it. We are talking about 48 years ago or there abouts. Regardless, for years I would recall this time, as brief as it may have been, as a time I came to support a person for their effort simply because they made the effort. Fuzzy didn't last, he got knocked around, he was not athletic, he tried, but I think he gave up. I don't think his giving up effected him that much, I think he satisfied himself that he made the attempt and at least had the courage to do that.

This evening, April 9, 2008 I received an email from a man in my home town telling a group of us on his mailing list that Fuzzy had passed away. Apparently it happened Monday evening, cause unknown at this time. Now, here I sit, wondering about our friendship all those years ago.

Fuzzy went to college, I think Northern Michigan University in Marquette, but until I read his obituary I won't know. He moved away and became active in banking, and eventually ended up back in Munising working at the First National Bank. Fuzzy eventually became the President and CEO of the bank and a "mover and shaker" in our small home town. The last time I saw Fuzzy was last summer when I went back north for the 4th of July celebration. Fuzzy was driving the vehicle pulling the bank's float and I yelled at him and got a small wave back. I don't think he recognized me because I was a face in a group of people and he was concentrating on the task at hand. That is the last time I saw him alive.

The last talk I had with Fuzzy was perhaps 5 or 6 years ago. I had stopped in at the First National Bank and went back to his office to sit and visit with him. We talked for perhaps a half an hour. Our conversation centered around hot fudge sundaes at Ma's Lunch. Then we talked about the condition of Munising, of the loss of tax base because of the Pictured Rocks National Park, of the economy of Munising, and of the depth of feelings Fuzzy had for the Nebel family. The Nebel family owned the bank and had been an old family name in Munising since the 1930's. One of the last statements I made to Fuzzy was about my desire to own a piece of property in Munising, and he said that if that ever came my way that the bank would work with me on a loan if I needed it. We parted company, old comrades, with not too much in common anymore accept for our memories of a football season many years before and a common love of our hometown.

I think Fuzzy had just retired from the First National Bank. I know he had either retired or was going to retire. He and I had talked about that event and I think he said that he and his wife were thinking of moving to Arizona. He never made it. If he did retire he didn't even get a year in before he passed away.

Apparently his passing has touched me at some level. I'm sitting here, late at night, recalling a brief friendship, a lasting memory, and wishing he had more time to enjoy his well earned respite from work. I am dealing with many of the same issues, should I retire, when, and what for? I am also sure that he and I shared the same thoughts about death, not me, not my time, I've got years left. Bullshit, Fuzzy has no more years. He leaves friends, memories, and activities that he participated in, but he also leaves a legacy that will be remembered by many for a number of years. For me, he leaves a memory of hot fudge sundaes at Mary's Grill some 48 years ago. Thanks for the memories, Fuzzy!