| Subject: He that loves the branch, loves the tree |
Author: Soos
Date: 2/6/2015 2:53 pm
|
Mr. John Farley King, Jr. passed this past weekend. The father of one of my very best friends from high school.
I don’t remember how or when John Farley King III and I met. It may have been KD who introduced us; they both came from the same neck of the woods, up near the old Beach Shopping Center.
That freshman summer, and through our sophomore year we three were like brothers. If I had to sum up that time of my life in one word it would be “Jubilation”. I don’t remember ever laughing as much; not before and not since. Everything was new; everything was an adventure; everything was fun. And Farley was the catalyst. I’ve called him the ‘Pied Piper of Fun’ in these threads before, and that’s exactly what he was. The first question everybody had when the gang was getting together was “Is Farley coming?” If he was you knew it was time to fasten your seatbelts and buckle your chinstrap. Good times were coming, fast.
But here’s the thing. Farley was also the most responsible, the safest to be around, the caretaker and protector of us all. It’s almost counterintuitive: the hardest partier was also the safeguard, the backstop, but it was so. And I attribute that trait, that quality, in large part to his Dad.
In those early years Farley was most often just not available. Farley’s dad had him working. Even though Mr. King held an executive position, a big job at Standard Brands Inc., one of the area’s largest and oldest corporations, on weekends he ran a small landscaping business (a business, if I remember correctly, that Farley’s Grand-dad founded). Every Saturday and Sunday, all day, all summer long, Farley III and his dad loaded an old Ford pick-up with equipment and drove all over Montrose, Peekskill and Yorktown and mowed lawns.
At thirteen, fourteen and sometimes even fifteen years of age, the young American male has perhaps his final fling with ‘summer-break’ before legal working papers are issued. Sure, most of us had chores; we all worked around the house, and babysat, and did our stints as camp counselor, and more in eighth and ninth grade. I’m not saying Farley’s situation was unique. But in my circle at least, at that particular age, no one worked harder or longer hours, while most of his buddies were essentially pool-hopping during the day and stealing into the Hollowbrook Drive-In with six-packs at night. Farley couldn’t be there, a lot. He was too busy pushing hand-mowers and wrangling leaves.
This had a couple of very positive effects, and I am sure that Mr. King knew exactly what he was doing. First, the extremely physical nature of the work tired Farley out (just a bit, but just enough). I remember him showing up after his long days’ work two hours after the rest of us had already started. A lot of the piss and vinegar was beat out of him: we were bouncing off the walls and he was bone-tired. Second, the physical work also built-up his body. Farley was a big kid to begin with, and the hard work was strengthening him in such a way that the Football coaches were literally drooling when he showed up for late summer two-a-days. Third, and most importantly, Farley was learning diligence, fortitude, perseverance, and professional courtesy and responsibility while the rest of us were mainly concerned with combing our hair just so before we went out.
These were practical and extremely worthwhile lessons, lessons that Farley’s Dad methodically and firmly taught him, instilled in him from the earliest age. It couldn’t have been easy to drag the 1970’s teen-age boy out of bed each and every Saturday and Sunday morn at sun-rise, and push him along until sun-down, while his buddies were all swimming and playing Frisbee. And remember, Mr. King had a full-time, big-time, white-collar job; he wasn’t pushing lawnmowers on weekends for the money. He was working with his boy. And I can say unequivocally that it paid real, and permanent dividends. John Farley King III, the ‘Pied Piper of Fun’, was and is among the most responsible, hard-working, diligent and caring men that I have ever known.
As a pimply, punky, and extremely self-conscious teenager I never took the time to really get to know the parents of my friends very well. My loss.
I would visit my friend’s houses, of course, and often see their Moms and Dads. They were all very friendly to me; none of them ever gave me any reason to flee and hide in the basement or wait outside the way I did. It was all me. (I was always impressed and a little envious of my teenage friends who could just sit down in the living room and have an instant rapport, a back-slapping and extended guffaw with the “grown-ups.” I wondered if they had some kind of training in “conversing with adults” that I missed out on.)
Wonderfully, amazingly, my friends’ parents seemed to understand and accept my insecurity. They would just kind of smile knowingly, and say “He’ll be right out, John.”
None more so than Mr. and Mrs. John Farley King. When I arrived for Farley, his mom or dad would kindly greet me at the door with a basket of apples, and then hand-pick and offer me the best one. (They discovered early on my love for the crispy and tart varietals, and kept a supply ready to hand.) They would watch me take that first loud crunchy bite, smile broadly and say “He’ll be ready in a minute, John. Where would you like to wait?” |
|
| Topics |
Author |
Date |
|
|
|
  |
He that loves the branch, loves the tree |
|
|
Soos |
2/6/2015 2:53 pm |
|
|
|
|