Bye, Buddy

A friend encouraged me to write about Sam, and one day, I was struck by this memory and couldn’t stop writing it. I don’t pretend that this is exactly what happened, but it is my impression of a wonderful day with my buddy.

The sky is grey above a small Wisconsin city, and raindrops fall almost lazily onto the roofs of houses in a winding subdivision. The neighborhood is quiet, families secluded inside away from the damp of the cold spring rain. Quiet, except for two children in their front yard, outfitted in rain jackets and rain boots, seemingly deep in negotiation while standing directly in six inches of rain that has pooled in a drainage ditch next to their mailbox. One of the children appears to be eleven or twelve, in a bright yellow jacket and red boots, with hazel eyes glinting with focus. The second child appears to be five or six, similarly clad but with blue boots, gazing up at the first child with wide, blue eyes.

The older child says in a serious tone, “Ok, so this is like the scene where Aragorn is leading the hobbits through that swamp area. So you are Samwise, obviously, and I’m Frodo, and I’m going to fall, and then you come back and lift me up and say ‘You can do it, Mr. Frodo!’”

The younger child excitedly jumps back and forth on his feet and replies “Ok, yeah, cool. Do I get a gun?”

“No, Sam,” the older child replies. “They didn’t have guns, remember? They had swords, so you can pretend the pool noodle is your sword. But there isn’t really any fighting in this part.”

“Sweet, I get a sword,” Sam replies with mischievous victory, then dramatically swipes the pool noodle through the air.

“Ok, sure, but remember, you walk in front of me, then I’ll yell and fall, then you turn around and come lift me up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Rachel, I got it,” Sam retorts, sheathing his pool noodle sword in the crook of his elbow and assuming his position for the scene further up the ditch. 

“Oh and remember, pretend like bugs are biting you and stuff!” Rachel calls back.

Sam walks ahead a few more paces then stops and turns back, questioning, “Ok, action?”

“Action!” His directorial sister expounds.

Both of them begin to struggle through the ditch, making six inches of water look like two feet of swamp water full of vegetation and general muck.

“Stupid mosquitoes,” Sam says as he haphazardly slaps his arms and back. 

With the overacted drama of an adolescent who just learned a little bit about acting, Rachel stumbles in the water, drenching the clothing above her boots with no regard for the laundry their mother will have to do after this escapade. 

“Ahhhh!” She yells as she reaches towards the sky.

Sam turns around right on cue and rushes back to her.

“Frodo, Mr. Frodo,” he implores, “You have to get up! You can get up and carry the magic ring, you have to!”

He goes off script a little, but as the entire skit takes a little creative license, they continue the scene.

“I can’t, Samwise, I can’t!” Rachel cries, even as they both smile a little at the coincidence that Sam is playing Samwise.

“You have to, Mr. Frodo, you can do it!” He yells and kneels down in the rain to put Rachel’s arm over his shoulder. He lifts her up, but before they are fully upright, Sam slips and drags them both down into the ditch, rendering their boots and raincoats nearly useless against the rain.