Smilin' Gordon

One of my favorite school chums from Suburbia was named Gordon. He was probably of Puerto Rican descent. I only say that because his mother didn’t always speak English and she looked like what I thought a Puerto Rican lady would look like. He could have been Italian. Hey, I was still getting over meeting the Philippinos across the street. I was so white bread, I had “Wonder” written on my forehead.

Gordon was a genius in my eyes. He was my age, and he was working on building and fixing television sets as a hobby. I had him look at my old three inch portable reel to reel tape recorder, and he fixed it in a couple of days. I didn’t mind paying the couple dollars he asked for either. I considered him a good friend.

Anyway, I got in the habit of calling Gordon, “Smilin’ Gordon.” It didn’t matter what would happen to the guy. He always had a smile on his face. I used to tease him by saying, “I’m Gordon, and I’m failing school and my house burned down,” while wearing an exaggerated grin. He just grinned along with me.

The only time I saw his smile slip a little bit, was when his mother would get after him for something or other. Every time I heard her, she was always yelling at Gordon or his siblings. When she’d see me at the door, she would change to Spanish or something and continue her tirade.

I remember one day not long before I moved away for good, I went to the door to see Gordon, and his mother answered the door. My heart dropped to my knees, and I must have looked like I wet my pants.

Gordon’s mother answered the door and smiled at me. She told me Gordon would be back in a little while. The woman smiled at me and spoke to me in a friendly tone. You could have knocked me over with a dandelion.