A night out with namesakes
- Michelle Wood: SWCD
- October 7, 2009
- 936
I conjured up a different twist to that little scenario. I invented "Bruce night out."
During my teenage years in the 1960s, my best friend's first name was Bruce.
Besides our name, we had a lot of things in common, baseball being one of them. We played on the same team for a few years.
We did social activities together, too, like double date. Generally, we just got along, as good friends should. In today's terms, I guess you would say that we hung out together.
We were both from middle class families and had similar values. We attended classes together in our crowded high school of 1,200, and that was just grades 10-12.
Of course, we took some ribbing about the two Bruces being together so much. Out of orneriness, I was given a nickname, just so we would both stop turning our heads when someone called out, "Hey, Bruce."
I was tagged with "Moose," simply because I was a runt. I was 5 foot 8 inches and weighed a whopping 115 pounds when I graduated. Since then I've grown an inch taller. But it's been a long time since the scales registered 115.
After high school, Bruce and I lost track of one another. I haven't seen my old buddy for a long, long time.
But life has a funny way of making amends, of evening things out, of repeating itself. Today, all those years later, two of my best friends are both named Bruce.
Like my high school namesake, these two friends and I also have much in common. We all have wonderful wives, one each of course. We are all in our 60s.
We three Bruces attend the same church, where, qualified or not, we have held various leadership positions. We each enjoy nature, family and sports, especially baseball.
As this major league season wound down, I had three tickets for a game during the Indians' last home stand. I dreamt up "Bruce night out" and invited Bruce the birder and Bruce the coach to attend the game with me.
As much as we had done together, birding, small group, work projects, the three of us had never done anything together alone, at least that I could remember. Our wives, children and others had always accompanied us.
I figured the ball game would be just the ticket for the three of us to get together. Turns out, we had a riot. At least we didn't start one. That's another thing we have in common. We're a peace-loving trio of Bruces.
There we were, three Bruces in a row, like the three Musketeers, only without the fancy duds. Who would have known? I wondered if it was some kind of record. They keep sillier statistics in baseball.
Of course we talked the night away, to the game, during the game, and on the way home. Nothing critical. Nothing serious. Just guy talk.
We discussed the demise of our beloved Indians, contemplated whether the manager would be fired or not (he was), and analyzed plays and players. Friends that we are, we shared food, memories and laughs. We talked about the past, present, and what the future might hold.
True fans that we are, we stayed until the very last out. Even though the Indians lost, "Bruce night out" was a big success.
I'm just glad that at some point during the game no one yelled, "Hey, Bruce."
Contact Bruce Stambaugh at brucestambaugh@gmail.com.