The following song, written and performed by my brother, Chuckie, is inspired by an old, old friend, Mike Clarke. Please listen while you read...(*I've never uploaded a song before, so if you'd like to read while you listen, you should open another tab or window while the song is playing)
For four years in the late eighties/early nineties, Chuckie and I, along with our younger brother Will and our parents, lived on a particular street in Staten Island, NY. In almost every house there lived children of all ages and all the boys were sports fanatics (and so the girls were fans/cheerleaders/and when the guys were desparate for even teams, players). Whatever the season, whatever time of day, from hockey to manhunt, the excitement never ended for us while we lived there. The older boys, who owned actual jerseys, created a street hockey team and were literally worshiped by us younger folk. As girls, we'd give anything to bring them water or a bandage for a skinned knee...and our younger brothers absolutely immortalized the older boys. Here's a picture of the three most famous and most talented of the crew:
That's Brian, Mike, and Ken. If Mike stood out, it was because he was the quiet one. The one with the manners. Brian was quiet, too, but his athletic skill (and ability to drink two liters of Pepsi in ONE sitting) made him something mythical. And while Ken might not have been the best at a sport, he certainly was very good at every one AND had the personality to fill in everything else. He could keep a group of ten to fifteen adolescents laughing to tears most of a hot summer afternoon until dinner was called and was the envy of us all. Looking back on those years, it's hard to think of a time when those three boys were not together. Here's what my brothers and I looked like during that time:
We moved to New Jersey when I was about to turn sixteen. And, as happens when you grow up, we all lost touch. I had heard through the grapevine that Mike became a fire fighter...and was knocked to the floor when one of my Staten Island friend's called me shortly after 9/11 to tell me that Mike was one of the first to respond. I still have not found the words to describe that day, listening to a radio from my new job in Albany, thinking of all my family and friends who lived and worked in the city. I used to be the poet in the family, but now it is my brother, Chuckie. And to do him justice, here is a more recent picture of him:
In this song, the incident with the bully is a bit fictionalized...and the crush, too...however, in those days, I had a crush on just about every boy that walked within four feet of me, so it *could* be true. In any case, my brother has truly captured the spirit of that wonderful boy from our childhood. In his own way, Mike was a hero back then and will forever remain a hero.
If you'd like to hear more of Chuckie's music, visit his myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/chuckecosta.
Your brother is such an amazing singer/song writer... Thanks for sharing that song with us...
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