Isaac Jaronski, 1974-2008

I remember walking in long ovals around the schoolyard during recess, parsing the metaphysics of vorpal swords and the difference between the astral and ethereal planes.
I remember his intense fullblue eyes.
I remember his attic room in Charlestown, where there was the very advanced NEC computer that took those huge 7” square floppies that held a whole meg of data.
I remember his 9.6 baud volksmodem that we could use to play Rogue on the Harvard computer.
I remember helping him and his stepdad build shelves all day at that apartment on Mass ave, with the idea that with the scraps we were going to build some sort of starbase.
I remember that not working out.
I remember his focus, his fullbore absolute focus that he could bring to bear on one of his projects.
I remember he kind of smelled in his early years.
I remember my sister held that opinion of both of us.
I remember walking with him and Teddy back from karate class in Southie, breaking bottles on the train tracks.
I remember his speech mannerisms, a funny way he had of hiding his mouth with his hand sometimes.
I remember wrestling with him in my parents’ library, and my dad getting mad at us for making too much ruckus.
I remember sitting in the front seat of the school bus together every day, nattering about all sorts of things.
I remember him walking everywhere.
I remember that time we ate E together, and the resulting outpouring of historical confessions.
I remember wacky Ronnie, the bus driver, saying that I had Isaac’s batteries, that until I got on the bus, Isaac was stone silent.
I remember being ashamed of cutting him in public in front of the cool kids.
I remember the games we made up with paper and pencil, the space battles we’d fight by pressing the tips of our pencils down on the bows of our ships on the paper and flicking pencil laserbeams out toward each others’ ships.
I remember his drawings, how many and how clever his starships and wizards were.
I remember his drawing of a spaceship that looked like a bulldog with its clever hinged jaw, and how I tried to copy that jaw so many times later.
I remember his voice, so well.
I remember his performance in the play in 5th grade; he was the only one who could act.
I remember his home run he kicked in 6th grade, earning him the nickname for a while, "Master Blaster".
I remember his overwhelming self-consciousness.
I remember how he reforged his body.
I remember that amazing 3-d plexiglass chessboard we built, with his stepdad's help.
I remember the paint job we put on all 90 of the miniature pieces.
I remember him getting pissy with me for getting pissy with him about eating messily.
I remember his dogged persistence.
I remember his rational quest for spiritual knowledge.
I remember hearing horrible news, that he was in the hospital, and that it wasn't the first time.
I remember him getting a little too far into character during a game of Champions, hollering "Commie!!"
I remember his stories about the hippies back in Eugene where he started out.
I remember the rosy picture he painted of those early years.
I remember him telling me that he thought he had broken something in his brain during a course of intensive transcendental meditation, and that he couldn't remember things that well anymore.
I remember him pooh-poohing my admonitions about the school water fountains.
I remember he said, "if there's something toxic in there, I figure I'm immune to it by now."
I remember bringing him with me to that rave in connecticut.
I remember us getting kicked out of our half-dead ride and figuring out how to get back from New haven at noon on a Sunday.
I remember hearing that he was getting a bit better and was living in a group home.
I remember crying with his mother outside the church.

I remember Isaac.


(credit due to Joe Brainerd for the form of this post.)