Jay Michael was one of the most energetic, friendliest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He and my husband Jeff played baseball together for many years. He had a big smile, quick glove and kind of crazy hair.  I can still picture him in his red Jaycee ball hat. I also remember hanging out with Jay at the Bridgeport Pool during the earlier 1970s – the days of polka dot bikinis, old-school classic rock – and the Handy Shop.

 

For some reason, my most vivid memory from that time is swimming under the bulkhead at the old pool. Regardless of the time and place, my memories of Jay include an ornery laugh. That includes last summer when we all attended the BHS class of 1977 reunion. I graduated a year behind those guys so I wasn’t in the reunion photo. As they were all getting situated, I was snapping pictures. In every single one, Jay is grinning ear to ear. It’s hard to tell what those guys were saying to each other, but they were acting just like I remember them when we were kids. You would never know that Jay was in the advanced stages of ALS – also known as Lou Gehrig’s, a debilitating disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord.

 

For quite sometime, Jay had been physically declining. Still, you’d see him all over town, buzzing up and down the streets – regardless of the weather - in his electronic wheelchair. He would hang out at Almost Heaven, enjoying coffee and conversation. He also often stopped at our little deli on Main Street, grabbing a sandwich to support our family business. A couple of times, he bought lunch for the entire staff at Bridgeport Physical Therapy. He said he appreciated them all so much that he wanted to do something for them.

 

Little did Jay know what an impact he had on us during those latter days. One evening, even after we locked the doors for the business day, Jay hung around and chatted with us. I’ll never forget some of the things he said. Jeff asked him if he was afraid and he didn’t hesitate at all before answering. He said he absolutely was not afraid of what lied ahead for him – including death.

 

After all, he said, everyone dies of something. He said that it was kind of liberating to know. He said his diagnosis of ALS gave him somewhat of a gift and enabled him to know how to live each day to the fullest. Every day held its own special moments – time with his family and friends, doing things he liked to do and running into random people with whom he could chat a little. He had made his peace with God. He knew where he was going when he left this place, so there was nothing to be afraid of.

 

Jay had in the past been a hard worker. You might remember him from his years at Ace Hardware. He had an energetic work ethic, much like his former performances on the baseball field. But once he got sick, he said he realized - more than ever - how important it is to live, really live your life – and not work it away. Yeah, it’s important, he said to work to support oneself and his/her family, but our work doesn’t define us. He said we have to take time out to just be with each other.

 

I think that might have been the same day that Jeff asked Jay if he was going to the class reunion. He said he thought he would. As they always do, the weeks and days passed quickly. Before we knew it, it was class reunion day. Jeff called Jay and asked if he was still going and I could hear his voice on the other end of the phone ask, “When is it?” Next came laughing - from both ends of the line. Long story short, Jay came to the reunion that evening. His classmates were so happy to see him. He wondered from table to table, reminiscing about the old days and spreading that inspiration.

 

Last September, the BHS Class of 1977 celebrated its 37^th year since graduation. Pretty random, isn’t it? Why 37 years? I think I know.

 

It was about a month ago when I originally set out to write this blog honoring our Bridgeport High School classmate and friend. Rather than rush into it, I decided to give it some thought. Since then two more BHS students the late 1970s have also passed.

 

Jeff and I have talked about the untimely passing of our friends. First of all, it’s hard to wrap our heads around the fact that so many people our age are passing on. Secondly, it’s important to stop and realize what a gift it is just to have known these hometown friends. During their childhood and teen years – when we spent most of our time with them – and even in recent decades when we haven’t seen so much of them, they have had much to teach us, we decided.

 

This blog is also dedicated to the memory of Cheryl Marteney, a successful attorney, BHS Class of 1977 valedictorian and member of the Ki-Cu-Wa staff, who died this summer after a long battle with cancer and Marty Colton of the BHS Class of 1976, the well-known local owner of 3-C Tool & Equipment Company, who died unexpectedly. Cheryl was so brave facing her battle with cancer and agreed to undergo experimental methods to lengthen her life, time with her family and quality professional services. Forty years ago, Jeff played baseball with Marty. A couple of weeks ago, he was privileged to co-officiate his funeral. Marty never knew a stranger and was always looking for a way to help others. I could go on and on. Don’t underestimate what you can learn from your childhood friends. And it’s true. They – and what they teach us – are with us always. 

 

 

 

 

 

Julie Perine can be reached at 304-848-7200, julie@connect-bridgeport.com or follow @JuliePerine on Twitter. More "It's Happening" HERE.