Recently I was contacted by an old friend from my high school days. He was contacting me about our 50 year high school reunion. He was on the committee organizing it. I was so excited about it especially to be able to see my old friend.

I was somewhat of a nerd in high school and there was this one guy, one of the cool guys at school who befriended me when, frankly, not a lot of other kids wanted to be my friend. And who could blame them, I was a bit socially awkward then. That he would be my friend back then, it meant a lot to me.

Ted and I shared interests in science and music. I’ll never forget this time he invited me over to his house. I thought it was so cool that his parents let him live in their guest house. He put Bruce Springsteen Born to Run on the stereo. It was the first time I had heard Bruce Springsteen and I was blown away. Born to Run and Thunder Road especially.

But just a few days ago, I heard that he had passed away. I was shocked and saddened. He had such a kind soul. I read what his wife wrote about him online and from what she said, it sounded like his sweet, fun loving soul never strayed from him.

To Thunder Ted

Begin with the needle’s drop,
a crackle, then the roar,
The Boss howling Thunder Road,
And me, grinning at the door.

Fifty winters since we sat
in his kingdom of one room,
A guesthouse throne, stereo crown,
The walls humming Born to Run.

He, the lightning in the hallways,
Me, the shadow by my locker.
Yet he stopped. And he asked.
And he played me Springsteen.

And suddenly I was not
the boy who didn’t fit,
But the one who knew the words
to Jungleland by heart.

Now the news comes like a missed chord.
Ted is gone. The needle lifts.
But the thunder never fades.
Somewhere, he’s still singing,

Windows down, wheels spinning,
Laughing as the track goes loud.
Hey, you wanna turn it up?
Oh, Ted. The lightning.

Turn it up.
Up there.
Like you used to say.
Crank it dude.