Jerry

He was handsome, suave, and charming. Girls adored him as a princely attraction. His appeal was such as to be disarming. Faculty viewed him as a major distraction. Jerry and I were inseparable in high school. We did the things boys did in those days: Graded girls, cruised Main, acted “cool.” And wore “threads” of the current craze. Post high-school, I hardly knew my old friend. He spent nights in bars drinking himself gray. I feared our friendship was coming to an end. I asked him why he was throwing his life away. His answer should have handed me a key. Even to this far-distant day I grieve it did not. He stared me down and said, “Wait and see.” I never saw him again, though I looked a lot. Years later hunters found Jerry’s remains. Investigation showed he took his own life. Why didn’t I see he needed help to change? Why didn’t I grasp the extent of his strife? Perhaps you know someone like Jerry— A person who hints he or she feels lost. That’s your call to act, your call to be wary. Lest your conscience pay a never-ending cost.