Kris (originally posted 9/27/18)

Kris was a kid who lived almost directly across the street from me. His family moved to the neighborhood sometime in the late 80s or 1990 at the latest. He was about a year younger than me, had short brown hair, and was on the somewhat chubbier side. He had a little sister named Elena, who was a couple years younger than my little sister. Kris and Elena were Macedonian, their parents having immigrated some years before. Kris’ grandparents also lived with them. Often we’d see Kris’ grandfather poking his head out of the upstairs window, surveying the block or calling out to the grandkids in his native tongue.

 Kris was probably the first real friend I can recall from the neighborhood. We were different from each other, and had differing interests, but we found common interests and lots of opportunities to pass the time away. Kris was really into martial arts and took karate classes. I wasn’t at all, but I lent an ear when he wanted to tell me about his new belts he’d earned. I was into bugs and snakes, and he would usually look at my collections with a subdued interest.

 We spent a lot of time at each other’s houses. His backyard was big and his dad had planted a big garden with grapes among other things. I’d walk between the vines and practice being concealed. Where a garage had once stood was now soil and more garden, and at the very back, a wooden gate. Across the alley was the back of a bar on Foster. Sometimes we’d spy on drunk bar patrons being rowdy back there.

 One summer, I found several big praying mantises in his yard. I caught them and put them in the big yew shrub in my backyard, and watched their numbers dwindle throughout the late summer as they succumbed to cannibalism or predation or both – who knows.

 The front stairs by Kris’ house were wooden, with an open construction allowing us to run under them. One time, Kris and I decided to start a little bonfire there. Much to our surprise, our little bonfire quickly grew, and the flames licked the bottom of the stairs and nearly set the house on fire. Fortunately we were able to stomp it out before that happened.

 Elena would usually tag along by default. She was to Kris what my little sister Cheryl was to me. When Kris’ family moved around the same time we did, I never saw Kris or Elena again, that is, until the summer of 2017, when, coincidentally, Elena was hired by the company I work for, the department I work in, and positioned right next to me. She was about 8 years old when I last saw her, and almost 30 the next time. Crazy.

 Below is a photograph of me pulling Elena (front) and Cheryl in Kris & Elena’s alley. The tricycle was unique in that it was made entirely of cast aluminum and was extremely heavy. A few years before this photo was taken, Cheryl was riding it, and I was standing on the rear panel behind her, holding on to the middle of the handlebars, when she stopped abruptly and I flew head-first into the handlebars…with my teeth. I chipped my right upper central incisor right in half. For years I lived with this gaping hole in my front tooth and never flashed a toothy smile. I’ve had the tooth repaired several times, but every now and then the tooth likes to me remind me of my childhood recklessness and break apart before I get it fixed again. Anyway, just a fun anecdote that sort of went along with the photo.