Ed Buford - Just Another Geek

The Boy Next Door 8

After Harlan died I began drifting farther and farther from God. I could not reconcile in my mind how God could love these “club members” who could not like my friend. The next years of my life left a wake of wounded around me. I was unfit to have a relationship most everyone. There is no doubt that hurt people, hurt people.

As I turned my back on God, Harlan’s Dad embraced him, when Randal died in 1981 after years of complications from his wound, his Dad rejoiced. The tears were different than the tears he shed for Harlan; these were tears of Hope. And again there were tears of hope his wife died in 1984. I remember wondering how someone who had lost two sons and a wife could be growing if faith as my faith was all but gone.

In 1987 when my Dad past away Harlan’s Dad was there, he told me of how my Dad lead him to God and how without God his life would have no meaning at all. But I was mad at God. I wept tears of hopelessness. Days later my daughter was born, she was all the hope I had left; she was the hope that I had. Without her I could not have lived the next few years.

In 1996 Harlan’s Dad died, I rejoiced with tears of hope.

It was a bitter divorce that brought me to rock bottom, it was my foxhole where I found God, for a second time. I was broken and unable to move forward when I cried out to God…. And then the healing came, not all at once, in fact, it’s not yet complete; but it came; it came with tears of hope.

This summer Harlan’s brother Mason died from a blood clot. I found this profoundly sad. It was this, that made write this story. However this story really isn’t about the boy next store, it’s about people who rejected a little boy because he didn’t fit in. The life of Harlan could have been dramatically changed if people who called themselves Christians would have reached out to one little boy.

This could be the end… it’s up to you.

The Boy Next Door 7

December 29th 1978 Harlan was killed in a firearms accident. It was the afternoon, I heard about it an hour later. I went numb, I don’t know what I said or if I even said anything. I remember that I didn’t cry, not then anyways. When John died I spoke with many people from my church that let me know that if John wasn’t fully invested in Christ he was bound for hell. There was no doubt in my mind that Harlan wasn’t fully or even partially invested in Christ. I remember my sister telling me it was ok to cry, but I was in shock.

The funeral parlor was long and narrow, filled with folding chairs in the center and some pew like couches on the side walls towards the front of the room. I don’t remember going there, I was just there. I walked to the front of the room, it was Randall I saw first, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down closer to him. He reached up and grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled my head next to his. His grip was very strong from years in the wheelchair. He cried, so did I.

Harlan’s Dad was a professed atheist, as far as I know he was never interested in thinking about God, that was changing. Harlan’s Dad pulled me close to him in the only embrace we ever had. His eyes were filled with tears, there was nothing to say. I can’t remember anything he said, but I knew he was remembering all the years Harlan and I played together.

I remember my Dad and Harlan’s Dad talking about God that day. I remember that he couldn’t believe this was the end, that there was no meaning to life, that death was the end. I was proud of my Dad that day as he spoke, about God being a God of hope and a God of love. It’s funny but as Harlan’s Dad was choosing to believe in God, I was beginning to reject him.

Harlan’s Dad wrote the epitaph on his headstone it reads: Went to sleep in Jesus in the setting of the sun.

The Boy Next Door 6

It was late spring when they told me John was dead. It seemed like hours past as I tried to speak. How, why, when I asked; it was a tractor accident he was driving and there was another kid on it with him when the tractor rolled over and both boys died.

I hadn’t seen John in some time, and now I realized that I never would again. What would I say to him if I had a chance, I didn’t know, but I knew I would have loved the chance.

I went to the funeral home and John’s brother and parents were there. His brother and I talked for a long time. I remember his tears….

Not long afterwards Harlan turned seventeen. He stopped by to see me while I was working on my Grandma’s house. He was lean and strong, and not the fat little boy that I once knew. He had dropped out of school and gone to work for his Dad as a roofer.
He had moved in with a girl and talked about how great life was. It had been at least a year since I’d seen him. I remember how different he seemed.

He was eager to talk about John… we did. I knew this was a chance for me to talk about God; I tried, he resisted. I could tell we both were sorry we hadn’t stayed the three musketeers. I could read the pain in his eyes, it was the same pain I saw when they removed Randal’s legs. There were no words to speak about the distance between us. I knew we would both change the past if we could… but we couldn’t.

The Boy Next Door 5

Middle school was a new time in my life; I found new friends and activities and found myself drifting away from Harlan and John. We were still friends but we each headed in our own direction. John went with me to church from time to time and I’m pretty sure he began trusting God.

I continued to go to church, and at fifteen I gave my life to Christ at a church camp in Ohio. I was well aware there were some problems with the duplicity of the leadership at my church but I was sure I had met God and I wanted to live my life for him.

I came back from church camp and was baptized at my church. My dad was baptized with me, it was a wonderful thing. Dad had found God in a foxhole during WWII, but had never been baptized. It’s been awesome to have that memory over the years.

I dove headlong into the theology and philosophy of my church, but could not understand how being “saved” seemed to be more of a club than a calling. I knew Jesus loved me, but I couldn’t understand why that message was mixed with the misanthropic disdain for those who would not change their ways.

I heard from the pulpit about how Satan led an army of gays, rock and rollers, Catholics, Jews, unbelievers, and every other group who didn’t follow their beliefs. They made it clear to me that most everyone who didn’t believe what they did was destined for hell.
They explained how I should turn my back on those who wouldn’t turn from their evil ways. It’s funny now but in retrospect they talked way more about staying out of hell then they did about a loving God who offered heaven.

The Boy Next Door 4

I was in sixth grade when I met John. Our teacher made the public humiliation of John a class pastime. John may not have had the best head for school but he certainly didn’t deserve the daily verbal thrashing our teacher gave him in front of the class. John became the laughing stock of sixth grade, but he stood up under the weight of it when I was sure it would have broken me.

It might have been because I couldn’t stand to watch John endure his daily dose of belittlement and have no friends to boot, that prompted me to befriend John. But I soon counted John as one of my closest friend. John spent most every weekend at my house in during the sixth grade and spent full weeks during that summer. It seemed like he would go home and be back the next day.

Harlan not only accepted John but we all became deep friends. It was the first time we had a mutual friend who make it into our inner circle. Before long we were the three musketeers and we were sure it would always be that way.

The Boy Next Door 3

Harlan and I went to Karen’s house after school where her Mom sat for us. Karen had an older brother whom I was afraid of. I remember once he chased me up a tree while his Mom watched days of our lives on TV. Karen sometimes played with us, and helped pull me out of the hog pen when I fell in. I didn’t know I was in danger but the urgency in her voice let me know something was very wrong.

Karen had a horse and I desperately wanted to ride it, but was never invited. She had a great love for all the animals on their small farm, which included horses, hogs, chickens dogs, and barn cats. I’ll never forget the day that we got off the bus at Karen’s house and she took Harlan and me out to see the new litter of kittens in the barn. These were the very first kittens I’d ever seen. They were so tiny and helpless, their eyes were still closed; this was a wonderful treasure Karen had shared with us.

I don’t recall what we were doing when we noticed Harlan was missing, so I went to look for him. I remember coming around the corner and seeing him bending over a bucket, as I came up on him I was shocked to witness Harlan holding one of the kittens under the water in the bucket. I pushed him and I began to scream. There was a terrible look on his face that I’ll never forget. I saw the lifeless bodies of other kittens he’d already drowned. As Karen rounded the corner I wanted to protect her from this scene, but all I could do is cry.

I begged my parents to find some other sitter for me, away from Harlan and they did.

The Boy Next Door Part 2

I was eight years old in the second grade when an older boy named Rodney asked me to come to church with him. There was a bus service and it would come down my road and pick me up if I wanted to go. Mom bought me some dress clothes and a clip on tie and off to church I went. Rodney was a great friend to me and showed me the ropes of this church thing, had it not been for him, I would not have come back more than a time or two.

I invited Harlan often and he came with me occasionally. It was easy to see that he didn’t fit in, and he was painfully aware of it. It seemed like my church had no room for the grubby little boy who wore shirts too small for him and pants with thin knees. Harlan never talked about it, but after the first time he came it was much harder to get him to come again.

I enjoyed singing Do Lord oh Do Lord while Harlan found himself out of place and alone on Sunday mornings. I would come home on the church bus, change my clothes and we would play together. We didn’t talk much about church, except when my Sunday school teacher would press us to invite someone to church. Harlan was my best friend; he was the one I wanted to invite. This went on for years, I don’t remember when I stopped asking, I just stopped.

The Boy Next Door Part 1

My parents moved into the house I grew up in when I was two years old. It was that summer I met Harlan, the boy next door, he was six months older than I, and he always seemed like my brother. Some of the first memories I have are of me playing with Harlan in the front yard.

Harlan had two brothers Randall and Mason; they were much older than we were, just as my brother and sister were 8 and 10 years older than me. I remember Randall playing with us, he was a big brother who loved his little brother and Harlan loved him most of all.

I was six when Randall was shot in the back with a 22 caliber pellet. It was a one in a million shot that lodged in his mid spine paralyzing him from the chest down. A short time latter they removed both of his legs as gangrene set in. I watched Harlan struggle with what was happening to his brother. I remember us crying together and I told him maybe Santa would bring Randall new legs; Santa didn’t come that year.