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Tell us about yer by gone Buds!
John Sharpe, of Indiana, at 15, got Emancipated. His Ma married an abuser, he stood up to dude, and broke dude's arm. That was that.
John worked hard, at 16, bought a Dodge Pickup, packed up, moved to COLORADO. That is when my friends and I met him.
I never met a man like John, so confidant, proud, and self assured, but kind and humble...not egotistical. I was like 25, in 1982 or thereabouts, and John fit into our group like he was 25, too! He got a job on a crew cleaning out Cherry Creek. For 100 years it had been a dumping ground. His crew started out by the Reservoir, and they cleaned every foot of it clear to the South Platte, landscaping it along the way, like you see it today. My friend John did that!
Once, he found a severed hand on the bank, near Lincoln street. That job provided lots of stories. Johnny bought a motercycle. He had his own apartment , of course. 6 months after I met him, his Ma moved here, to escape the abuser, and she moved in with John to GET HER CRAP TOGETHER! He was 16, turning 17!
I dressed as a soldier for Halloween in 1983. Johnny lent his real dad's medal for my costume. I promised to get it back to him. I never saw John again.
He was at Blaines house the day after Halloween, for a finish the keg party. Meticulas as always, John had his motorbike spotless. He even put armor all on the walls of his tires. Blaine said John hadcomplained that the Armor all had gotten on the tread, and the bike was "Slippy".
Not liquored up, John left Blaines house. As he was zooming along a curved street in Hoffman Heights, John lost control I guess. Road went left, his "Slippy" bike never negotiated the curve. Dude slammed into a big Elm tree. The Homeowner ran out side, there lay Johnny, butt on the grass, back on the sidewalk, head resting in the gutter. Homeowner heard a death rattle.
I miss John Sharpe. Not many of us remember him now. Prolly mostly me.
I have kept that medal in every single vehicle I ever had since 1983. It is in my pickup out in the drive right now. I think of John every day. (or damn near any way)
Young John Sharpe was the genuine article, a man among boys. He taught me a thing or two. I wish he was still here. I miss him.
I often make toasts to John, though there are few left who knew him.
As long as I keep his memory alive, he lives on.
Tell me about your lost buds!
John Sharpe, of Indiana, at 15, got Emancipated. His Ma married an abuser, he stood up to dude, and broke dude's arm. That was that.
John worked hard, at 16, bought a Dodge Pickup, packed up, moved to COLORADO. That is when my friends and I met him.
I never met a man like John, so confidant, proud, and self assured, but kind and humble...not egotistical. I was like 25, in 1982 or thereabouts, and John fit into our group like he was 25, too! He got a job on a crew cleaning out Cherry Creek. For 100 years it had been a dumping ground. His crew started out by the Reservoir, and they cleaned every foot of it clear to the South Platte, landscaping it along the way, like you see it today. My friend John did that!
Once, he found a severed hand on the bank, near Lincoln street. That job provided lots of stories. Johnny bought a motercycle. He had his own apartment , of course. 6 months after I met him, his Ma moved here, to escape the abuser, and she moved in with John to GET HER CRAP TOGETHER! He was 16, turning 17!
I dressed as a soldier for Halloween in 1983. Johnny lent his real dad's medal for my costume. I promised to get it back to him. I never saw John again.
He was at Blaines house the day after Halloween, for a finish the keg party. Meticulas as always, John had his motorbike spotless. He even put armor all on the walls of his tires. Blaine said John hadcomplained that the Armor all had gotten on the tread, and the bike was "Slippy".
Not liquored up, John left Blaines house. As he was zooming along a curved street in Hoffman Heights, John lost control I guess. Road went left, his "Slippy" bike never negotiated the curve. Dude slammed into a big Elm tree. The Homeowner ran out side, there lay Johnny, butt on the grass, back on the sidewalk, head resting in the gutter. Homeowner heard a death rattle.
I miss John Sharpe. Not many of us remember him now. Prolly mostly me.
I have kept that medal in every single vehicle I ever had since 1983. It is in my pickup out in the drive right now. I think of John every day. (or damn near any way)
Young John Sharpe was the genuine article, a man among boys. He taught me a thing or two. I wish he was still here. I miss him.
I often make toasts to John, though there are few left who knew him.
As long as I keep his memory alive, he lives on.
Tell me about your lost buds!
- Go Broncos 2017 and Beyond! - 
. This is what made her the perfect grandmother. She wouldn't buy you a car, or a video game. But she would give you a hug, or a kiss, or something small or little that would mean alot. She loved me and my brother, and my cousin so bad, that she would have given up her life for us. 
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