A North Babylon High School friend of mine died this week, shortening our September and our breath, as our days, and our lives, grew darker.
18 minutes ago
(Photo by Steve Villano, Doran Beach, Bodega Bay, CA., September, 2026, taken on the day after I learned of Bob Conboy’s death.)
Only the ocean heard me scream;
Only the gulls jumped away.
Empty steps up to a sun-kissed chair,
Where he sat, and laughed, in earlier days.
Not this beach, not that chair,
Over sands swept out by time;
I pictured my friend sitting there,
Enjoying his youth, as I mourned mine.
I, observing;
Him, embracing;
Looking at,
Or, living life.
Our easy smiles,
His ebullience,
Separate ways of handling strife.
I watched him play with his dog,
While he… played with the dog.
I kept to myself, on my own shelf,
Extrovert/introvert, often fearful
Of getting hurt.
He, fearless of friends,
And of the mess they brought, the dirt.
He believed in God, and goodness;
Mine had to endure my wrath, and all the time I spent alone.
He acted on his compassion to others,
Knowing that here, in this world, kind work had to be our own.
I observed who and where I was, pushing it away,
To find a different path, give myself a shove;
He embraced who and where he was,
Finding his journey, like Assisi’s, in everyday acts of love.
(From the Class of 1967, North Babylon High School Year Book, edited by Jan Hickman. Voted as the three students who did most for “NB”: from right to left, Bob Conboy, Jan Hickman, and me.)
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