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They were infinite. They were evry color a soup of grey white and blue could offer, a foam that if i held up a stick maybe a couple lengths longer than i was tall i could scratch my name into or maybe the the made up initials of the kids i owe my parents. I did it all the time, made up first and middle names for them. I like michael because of jordan and jackson, and if i wanted to be cheesy i could give him the same initials as my old man. My parents had middle-named me after a baseball pitcher i think. K, the middle brother was kevin kostner and osmond from the family band. J got his middle name from shaq, except none of us knew if there was an apostrophe -niel or niell on the birth certificate and he was born before the age o google so i think he just spelled with the two l's to be safe.
I remember once when J was an infant kevin and i were convinced our parents loved him more. We had heard them after our bedtime in the living room his gurgling and both my parents laughing. He always got to stay up late and at seven i was grown up. I wanted to play a night with my dad. One night i climbed down my bunk to kevin's shaking him awake to help me spy. We could hear them downstairs in the kitchen now and hadto be careful to get a peek from the top of the stairs. The floorboards that lined the hallway between our room and the top flight were groany and to get past them you had to support your weight on the linen closet door or cupboards on the opposite side.
Kevin was my best friend back then and brother-in-arms. He was the only one i could trust to scale trees with me or do things we weren't exactly supposed to. A renegade team of two sidekicks. There was once that we would climb onto the opening garage door to the gated apartment complex and for the three seconds it was completely horizontal clamber across to slide down the in-side of the gate, like indie jones. I had the gate control to get in after school and we were taking turns clicking and climbing. The story ends with his being lodged between the roof and gate because of a neighbor coming or going and my freaking out until dad came and saved him. We both thought he was going to die and a body check later revealed a little scraping but no bruises and K had returned unharmed. I love him and i was destroyed by guilt because i couldn't help him. He was fine. We're all indestructable at that age. This image was taken after i dropped him off at school. He's a psych pre-med at UCLA and i want to be like him when i grow up.