Jeremiah L. | Teen Ink

Jeremiah L.

February 22, 2010
By SBloodClassicAlice BRONZE, Butler, Pennsylvania
SBloodClassicAlice BRONZE, Butler, Pennsylvania
3 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Truth passes through three stages:
First, it is considered absurd and is ignored or ridiculed.
Next, it is considered dangerous to the status quo, and viciously attacked.
Finally, it is considered wholesome, indeed, self-evident."
-Arther Schopenhau

I'm a happy kid.

I used to Hate anyone who called me a 'kid'.

I considered it demeaning.

They called me a kid, (dictionary:"tease playfully" (1839), earlier, in thieves' cant, "to coax, wheedle, hoax" (1811), from kid (n.), via notion of "treat as a child, make a kid of." )

I mean, I really hated anyone who called me that. I was overly zealous with despise to them. You cannot understand what I felt with these words.

The person who called me Kid most? Jeremiah L. He is my cousin/ uncle, related to my dad, but with strong blood ties to me. It's really confusing, and utterly regardless of the memoir I'm relating to you.

He was my father and I's roommate for five or six years prior to the five years that we moved back here. We used to live in Hillsboro, Oregon. There may have been things in the newspaper about him. I doubt it, but sometimes I have to wonder.

He was a little overweight, but it almost suited him, he never had a gross look to himself, and I would always find him in black shorts, and some sort of t-shirt, usually colors like a mossy green, almost pastel colors. Never anything girlly though.

Jeremiah would have to wake me up for school when dad went off to work for Asplundh. (Pronounced Ash-Plu-Nnn-CHhh) If I didn't get up, he usually dropped a glass of water on me. Looking back, I grew to despise Jeremiah. I never wished him any ill-harm, but I was just- weary.

He was a computer geek, and had a memory like no other. If you brought up a conversation from a year ago, or an argument in the newspaper that he had read, he could give you a full synopsis and even recite it for you. I could never tell if he had photographic memory, or if he was just super smart.

I know now that he was super smart.

He liked to play computer games like Star Craft, and other things. (I know, that sounds completely cliché to the sentence before it, but keep reading.) He loved magic tricks, and was a master. He always told me that a great magician would never reveal his secrets, but he showed me anyways, because I was such a winy brat. He also, was very into physics, and I suppose logic.

Jeremiah kept books scattered around his room on space, stars, and so many things I just can't think of, because I was either too small to remember, or too young to care. He always stared, or gazed. I'd never seen him just look at something. Not... animatedly, at least. I always thought that he was always thinking, always somewhere else. I didn't think that at the time, but I misinterpreted my thoughts for fear of that gaze. Now, as I am older, I wish and hope that some day I might be able to have that gaze. It was the gaze of the wise.

He wasn't crazy, but he was very, very cynical. Him and my dad got along great. I never got their jokes on Monty Python until later in life, and I never understood their love for old, black and whites. Now, I enjoy them almost as much myself.

So, I've gotten the point across that he was very, very smart, and is a cool guy.

He was also very social.

He was a butcher at a local grocery store with the local equivalent to Walmart, which were actually outlawed in Portland, as far as I hear. He was also the sandwich maker at Subway.

For a genius that got straight 'A's' throughout his entire life, never even the slightest hesitation of a 'B', (and I'm not sure if he went to college or not, but he studied things from there too. If he didn't, I know that was because of his funds. Remember, he was a Subway worker and a butcher? Yeah, in case you didn't know, those aren't very highly paying jobs.) those weren't very prestigious jobs.

He loved his family, I do believe, and loved my father as much as my dad loved him. When we moved away, we promised that we'd come to visit at least every summer. We promised.

Then again, being a tree-worker isn't a very prestigious job, either. So we never did visit again. It's been five years, and I have only seen old pictures, or things off the internet of Oregon. The beautiful place that haunts my dreams. We were going to go back. We had tickets around the beginning of last summer/end of spring.

Then, it got delayed a week. But, we were going to go. On Wednesday, Dad was worried that he couldn't get a hold of Jeremiah.

I was so excited because I had rented out a book from the Library (The first time, ever, actually, from around here) that reminded me of Jeremiah and Dad. It was something about humans that can go to the moon for a week like it's the mall, and they have these chips in their heads that are cellphones, and constant advertising units. It turned out to be really cool, and I finished it by Thursday night.

I hadn't noticed that Dad was almost crying- I mean, I'm empathetic, so I realized that he was worried, but I didn't know why, and I thought that telling him about the book would make him a little happier too, because he likes to hear about what I'm reading.

It did cheer him up, and on Wednesday and Thursday night, we enjoyed our lives the most, I believe.

Friday night, we went up to Nana's for dinner. And wow- it was spectacular. I remember being ticked at dad because his phone rang in the middle of dinner, and I told him not to answer it. He almost seemed to stop breathing, and I shut up. I suddenly didn't want him to answer the phone. I wanted to keep on going with dinner. I knew it was a bad thing, that phone. Nana told me to shut up a few seconds later, good-naturedly. She started laughing, and at the same second, Dad moaned. He almost cried.

Then, his voice was very, very hoarse as he went outside, to the dry porch, and sobbed into the phone. Nana was worried it was about work. I was already crying. I didn't know why, but I remember thinking, someone's not going to be calling at Christmas.

That was all I could remember thinking.

The author's comments:
Jeremiah L. is my best memory of life. I think I really loved him.

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