Growing up in Terra Linda, CA in the 1950’s and 60’s, I had several best friends. I have had dreams about returning to visit these friends in the neighborhood where we grew up.
Tom McCart lived down the street from me on Holly Drive. At five years old, I learned to ride borrowed bikes with Tom. Once we got up on two wheels, we roamed our neighborhood like bold explorers.
Tom and his sister, Martha, had been adopted by a precious couple. Twice every week Mrs. McCart baked delicious homemade bread and chocolate chip cookies, which she served us with milk after school. Tom and I camped out one night in their backyard. We made s’mores, and Tom’s dad set up a tent for us with sleeping bags, mats and pillows. Beaver Cleaver never had it so good.
In kindergarten I met Phil Zito. One day we had a fight and were sent to the principal’s office. As we sat in the office, waiting for the principal to arrive and bring judgment upon us, we bowed our heads, folded our hands and prayed for an earthquake to destroy the school buildings. We felt dying in an earthquake would be a better fate than what the principal would dispense.
I don’t remember what the principal said to us when he finally arrived, but the school survived an earthquake that struck a year later, and that was my last school fight until junior high. Phil and I became friends as we got older and we spent summers swimming in his pool and hunting in the hills surrounding Terra Linda.
Phil moved to Oklahoma for a few years and Peter de Jung became my best friend. Peter and I played football in the street on Holly Drive with his dad and brother, Steve. Peter’s dad took us on weekend trips to their cabin in the mountains near Boonville. We learned to catch trout on spinners in their stream which Mr. de Jung cooked with bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast feasts.
A few years later, the Zito family moved back from Oklahoma and bought a house near us on Holly Drive. Phil’s parents taught me to play hearts. His dad took me bowling and hunting for pheasant and ducks. I ate many meals at their house, which became like a second home for me.
We all attended Vallecito Junior High, a half mile walk from Holly Drive. Our principal was over six feet tall. He walked the corridors with a scowl, looking for trouble-makers while slapping a paddle against his thigh. The guys who were sent to him for discipline had to bend over when he applied it to their backsides. California public schools have changed a lot over the years.
One summer day, Phil and I went fishing in San Pablo Bay. We had been dropped off at China Camp where we rented a little row boat. We rowed out into the bay where we caught striped bass and flounder. As the day wore on, the gentle waves lulled us both to sleep. I felt a strong tug on my pole and woke up suddenly, thinking I had a big fish. It wasn’t a fish, but a huge wave that had hit the boat and bent my rod. The boat was rocking in white capped waves. I yelled to wake up Phil. We tried to row, but the wind and waves pushed us further into the bay. A large yacht was heading to shore and turned around when the captain saw us flailing our arms in distress. He threw us a line and towed us to shore.
Phil was an excellent hunter. He could call in flying ducks by making loud quacking sounds. One day when we were at Indian Valley Golf Club he spotted two mallards flying in the distance. He began making loud quacks and the ducks started flying towards us. As they circled lower he said, “Get down Buck, I’ll hit um with my golf club.”
In high school, Bill Saleme and I often played pool after football and baseball practices. Afterwards, his mom made us big Italian dinners while his dad played chess and talked philosophy with me. When we went out on double dates, Bill’s grandmother, who was 4’ll” and in her 80’s, would say, “Now Billy, whatever you do, remember, do not let those girls get you to say ‘I do!’”
As we got older, some of our experiences turned darker. My friends introduced me to drinking, the Mustang Ranch, and concerts at the Filmore. I introduced them to marijuana. My life descended into a demonic trap as I indulged in the psychedelics and seductions which fueled the Hippie movement.
After I gave my life to Jesus in 1970, I shared the gospel with my friends. Peter de Jung listened politely. His dad, who had been such a blessing to me had committed suicide by then. Peter had miraculously survived when a great white shark bit his surfboard and tore open his leg in a horrific Pacific Ocean attack.
Phil Zito and Bill Saleme prayed with me to accept Jesus. The seed of the gospel laid dormant in their hearts for a time. Years later, Phil told me he fought depression until he then returned to the Catholic Church and started delivering food to people in need. He always encouraged our prayer times at meals when we got together with our friends for yearly golf and poker outings.
The seed of faith sprouted in Bill Saleme’s life years ago. Today Bill and his wife Lucie travel the country reaching out to people in need and sharing their faith in Christ wherever they go.
Last month Phil died from a sudden heart attack. It shocked his family and all of us who loved him. I will always remember his kindness and cherish his friendship.
After Phil’s death, I had a vivid dream in which I saw Tom McCart in the presence of the Lord. I called out to him in my dream because I was excited to see him alive with Christ, and I could sense Phil was with him. Tom had died in 2013.
I woke up encouraged. None of us are saved because we have lived such a good life. We are saved by receiving the grace of God through Jesus Christ.
What is the point of picking up our cross and doing good to others in this fallen world? Following Jesus allows us to have a fruitful life. We are not only saved by grace, but grace can empower us to be a blessing to others. Abiding in Christ is a challenge, but the reward is revelation of who God is and the privilege of a partnership with Jesus. He gives eternal life to everyone who believes in Him.
I’m thankful for my friends, and also their families. They welcomed me into their homes with meals and love. My dad worked hard seven days a week to provide for our family. My friends’ parents enriched my life with adventures and gave me a bigger vision of what a family can become.
I have many friends who are in heaven now, as are their parents. The village that raised me has passed away. However, there is an eternal city which God has prepared for those who love Him. There is also a friend who sticks closer than a brother. He is the one I want to serve until I enter the eternal city.