My grandmother always said Memories are a tricky thing. They can wrap you up like a warm, velvety
blanket or scratch your nerves raw. And
sometimes, your Memory will play tricks on you.
There I was
at Christian’s Newburgh Panthers basketball practice at the Armory. First, you have to understand that growing
up, we all agreed that there was no one who could basketball the way that my
childhood friend, “Satin,” played. The
coach always said if there was such a thing as basketball IQ, Satin would be
considered a genius. There was something
innate about the way he touched the ball.
He had THE Touch. That’s why they
called him Satin.
But that was a long time ago, right
now, I was standing at the Newburgh Armory, with my jaw hanging open, watching
a kid handle the ball in a way that reminded me so much of Satin. Not the way he looked but the way he held the
ball, controlled the ball, could go from Zero to explosive in no time. With Satin, it was like you could blindfold
him and he would make the same shot over and over. And that’s when I thought I saw him. Out of the corner of my eye. Satin -- driving the ball down court. But of course, it wasn’t him. It was just my very vivid Imagination. Satin died, officially, 3 years ago. But we lost him long before that.
Satin was
our next door neighbor growing up in Fishkill.
His dad and Lolo both worked at IBM.
My brother Michael and Satin were best friends, from the time he moved
in next door at about the age of 5 until, well, until he disappeared. They were inseparable, those two. Always walking to the basketball court at the
elementary school across the street to shoot hoops. Sometimes Lolo went with them or Satin’s
Dad. He was the most amiable, good
natured kid, always with a smile on his face.
But as he grew into a young man, and really focused on basketball, it
seemed he was insatiable in his quest for perfection. He was relentless when it came to academics
and sports. Maybe we should have seen he
was too driven. Maybe we should have
said, Perfection is not a realistic goal, that is a quest that will burn you
out.
My brother
and Satin started to part ways a little bit in Middle school and High school. My brother immediately went out for
wrestling, and was on the JV team, then the Varsity team at John Jay from 7th
grade to senior year, ending as Co-Captain of the Varsity wrestling team. Satin was the Senior Class president, and
played baseball, soccer, football and was the Captain of the Champion Varsity
Basketball Team, and a bona fide basketball all star by the time they
graduated. He was the one they trusted
to take the game-winning shot over and over again. He was the one who made the magic happen on
the court. If he was out sick, we lost,
if he was healthy, we most likely were going to win.
He had made every basketball all star team
possible, was selected for every honor known, and was inducted into the
Dutchess County Basketball Hall of Fame. He made the Poughkeepsie Journal all star
team, the Conference A North All Sections all star team, and the Exceptional
Seniors All Star basketball team.
After practice, he
would stay in the gym and keep practicing, for hours on end, he would just
never want to leave the court.
I remember
coming back from NYU for my brother’s graduation, in 1986, it was right before
I was scheduled to go to NYU in Spain. I
remember looking at my brother and Roger, the two of them so impossibly perfect,
in that way that only two graduating seniors with the world at their feet could
be. Scholar athletes, handsome,
brilliant, talented, joking and laughing in the way only two best friends since
kindergarten could do. They were
everything a parent could hope for in a son, it was the 80’s, with big hair,
muscle cars, and Brat Pack movies. Before
there was Black Tuesday, before 9/11; our generation had grown up only knowing
peace, we had never experienced wartime.
When people said the sky is the limit, it really was.
My brother was headed off to college at SUNY Purchase, and Satin would
go on to Auburn University, where he would play basketball for 2 years. For me, that was the last time I would see
him alive. But I didn’t know that
then. I spoke to Satin briefly, but I
was itching to get on with my big journey to study in Spain. I really regret that I didn’t spend more time
with him. Of course, had I known it
would be the last time I would see him, I would have dropped everything and
made as much time as possible for my childhood friend. I would have told him to take it easy, not to
put so much pressure on himself, because a pressure cooker that’s not relieved
is going to implode.
What
happened after Auburn is sketchy. After
2 years, Satin transferred to St. John’s University in Queens. No one is totally clear why, Auburn had been
a pretty good gig. He played some
basketball but not at the level he was capable of, because he had other things
going on. He was involved in some kinds
of substances that were keeping him from thinking clearly. And then, he just disappeared. Literally.
Many people went to look for him.
He had been sighted somewhere in Florida but he wouldn’t come back to
reach back or accept help. God knows, we all tried, especially his family. He has two brothers. I can’t imagine the pain his parents went
through all those years.
So they say
it was, in a sense, a relief when they finally got the call. Around the holidays in 2010. Satin’s remains has been identified on a
beach in Florida, through dental records.
There’s no need to speculate as to what happened, because it just won’t
do any good or bring him back.
When we went
to the Memorial service in January of 2011, it was brutal. What a way to see your high school friends
again. He had been 42, but there were no
current pictures of him. So at the
Memorial service, the church was covered in pictures of him from high school: childhood moments capured; his senior class
picture, so handsome; his many basketball team pictures and newspaper clippings. The light in his eyes was so bright. His older brother, God Bless Him, was able to
speak at the Memorial. And what he said
to everyone was, Roger’s bright burning star was the same thing that kept him
from coming back and asking for help.
Had he been more of an ordinary guy, maybe he could have asked for
help. Asking for help, as his brother
said, is the hardest thing that a person can do. In a way, the same extreme willpower that
allowed Satin to practice for hours in the pouring rain, is what must have
allowed him to stop his hand, everytime he wanted to reach for the phone and
ask for help.
Oh, that would never be me, never be
my kid, I hear some people saying. Listen, Satin was my friend, and he could
have been anybody’s kid. There but for
the grace of God go I. And my
children. I take nothing for
granted. Nothing.
As I shook
myself back to the present, at Christian’s AAU basketball practice, I looked
around at all the talented athletes.
They are the best that Newburgh has to offer and Newburgh is the
basketball capital of the Hudson Valley.
Boy, Satin would have loved this place.
“MOM!” my son yells at me, cutting
through decades of thoughts and foggy memories to bring me front and center “… what’s
wrong, Mom?”
I know I have a vivid imagination. It’s what drives me to write all the time. And
for just a minute, I allow myself to imagine a young Satin, taking one last
shot, flashing me the peace sign, his signature move, and walking off the
court, dribbling slowly.
“Nothing, my boy, everything is just
right,” I say, and give him one last hug.
And it is. Somehow, by coming
here and seeing all these very much alive and well and healthy basketball
players, I am at peace. Maybe some part
of him lives on in all of us, his friends, in the way we see the world, the way
we raise our kids. I know that I was in
the presence of greatness. I am sorry
that Satin’s meteoric rise was so tragically cut down. But I know I will never, ever forget him. I know that I will always encourage my kids
to do their best. And most importantly,
I know that if my kids ever come to me for help or forgiveness, I will be quick
to extend it. Whatever the reason may
be. And so I thank you Roger, for that,
for all that you have given us, your friends.
You absolutely enriched our lives.
But as for any guilt or regret any of us are carrying around, it is time
to let that go. And remember the best in
you, the best in all of us, and forgive you.
And it’s time to forgive ourselves.
Rest in peace, my brother <3 Julie
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