MARK HAYTER hayter.mark@gmail.com
Hayter article for November 21, 2021
“Tracy”
It was 53 years ago that I drove the family’s 65 Pontiac Tempest over to the house of my friend, Kay Cross, a cute girl I knew from junior high. I had recently seen her at a mutual friend’s wedding. I called her later and asked if she’d care to go out with me and talk over old times. You can’t get more romantic than that. Oddly enough, she accepted. So, this was to be our first date.
I hoped like all get out that Kay would meet me at the door and we’d be out of there. I’m not a fan of meeting a girl’s parents, especially on a first date. My previous experiences had been awkward. The parents of the girls weren’t mean, just aloof. None of ‘em seemed to give two hoots who their daughters dated. I doubt any of ‘em knew or even cared what a nice guy I was. The rudest experience I had was with one my date’s older brother. That kid seemed to hate his sister and me both. I couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
So, I was nervous as all get out when I rang the doorbell at Kay’s house. We were just friends. I didn’t even know how I should act around her. And, as I stood at the door, I much preferred not meeting her parents. I didn’t want to get God involved, so I didn’t pray about it. I just kept saying to myself, “Please answer the door, Kay! Please!”
Kay’s dad answered the door. He was a tall guy with a nice smile. Rather handsome for a date’s dad. I pick up on stuff like that. “You must be Mark. Get in here. Kay will be ready in a little bit.” Whew, that went well. He then told me that he had been in the kitchen working on the washing machine. He felt it rude to leave me alone in the living room, but he feared he might forget how to put the thing back together if he left for any duration. He took me to the kitchen to show me what he was talking about. Holy cow! I didn’t know a washing machine had that many parts.
It wasn’t 30 seconds before a kid in a wheelchair zoomed in from the hallway. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember we both got tickled over it. “Mr. Cross, said, Tracy, behave! Take Mark to the living room. Kay will be there any minute.
Tracy had to be about 14 at that time. I was more relaxed around Kay’s brother than anybody’s brother I had ever known. I was experiencing the complete opposite of what I feared. To this day, I think God was paying attention when my brain asked for Kay to answer the door. -- “Not going to happen, Mark. Something much better.”
Before leaving I got to meet Kay’s mom, who had a great sense of humor and was just as nice as could be. Tracy was right behind me as we exited. He said to me, “Remember, she doesn’t like anybody touching her.” The kid was crazy. Crazy cool.
Tracy was in a wheelchair due to osteogenesis imperfecta. Brittle bone disease. The ailment was first suspected after he broke his leg at the age of one. Once his leg healed he was able to walk until he was about seven years old. Then he broke his other leg while pushing a wagon. This time the doctor inserted a rod into his femur, a metal rod with larger dimensions than required. The procedure caused him much pain for most of his life. Despite that, each time I saw him, he was able to maintain an upbeat attitude. His quips were spontaneous. I thought he should’ve been a comedian, but he took to music. Learned to play the guitar, and became the lead guitar player in a rock ‘n roll band. The group changed its name several times. The last one was “Party Favors.” I remember seeing the group on stage. Tracy was sitting on a short stool, playing the lead-in to Creedance’s “Around the Bend”. -- “Come on the risin’ wind. We’re comin’ up around the bend!”
Since I’ve been using the past tense in my discussion about Tracy, you have sensed that he died. Kay got the news on September 28th of this year. A brain aneurysm, stroke, blood clot…? He was susceptible to a bunch of ailments. His friend, Ed, discovered him lying against the other side of a closed door. Ed was Tracy’s best friend and the manager of Party Favors. He and Tracy had just come back from visiting, Charlie, one of their old band members who was under hospice care. Tracy died at his home one hour after visiting Charlie. Charlie died a couple of hours later.
I put off telling you about this because I dreaded writing the story. One thing I left out was that Tracy had a small dog, A cairn terrier, named Maggie. Just as cute a dog as you’re going to find. She was in her 14th year, which is a lifetime for a cairn terrier, and didn’t take Tracy’s death well at all. Ed left Tracy’s wheelchair in a corner, and Maggie would sit under it for most of the day.
Ed took care of Maggie for a couple of weeks after Tracy’s death. Tracy’s dear friend, Ann, eventually took Maggie to live with her. Early last week, Ann called Kay to let her know that Maggie died. She had refused to eat. She was an old dog that had lost her will to stick around. That’s what I think.
Kay cried when she got the news. Being a Hayter, I never had any pets. Maggie was probably as close as I’ll ever get. She made me a believer that there are dogs in heaven. I only cried at the news of the dog’s death, because Kay was crying. That girl can sure do it to me. -- But, Tracy? He always made me laugh.
End
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