When goodbyes are forever
By Gary Massaro
Gary Massaro
suburban columnist
Rocky Mountain News
Denver
When goodbyes are forever
July 23, 1989
His name was Dudley.
He was my friend.
He told me so.
We were in kindergarten together at Columbian Grade School on Pueblo's south side.
He wore overalls and flannel shirts. Sometimes, in hot weather, he put on blue jeans and a striped T-shirt, which is what little boys wore in Pueblo in the mid-1950s.
Dudley smiled a lot.
I hadn't thought about Dudley in a long time.
This week I did.
My son, Marc, told me about his friend, Bryan Wendschlag, who is missing and presumed dead -- another victim of United Airlines Flight 232. Bryan was 8. He was going to be a third-grader at Dry Creek Elementary.
Marc's words brought back memories of Dudley, a little black kid with a big-dipper smile. He was hit and killed by a semi on Lake Avenue.
I liked Dudley.
And it was too sad to hear he had died so young. I went in my room and cried alone.
So did Marc when he heard about Bryan on Friday night.
He doesn't want to cry in front of his cousin," my wife, Cindy, said.
"He was my second-best friend," Marc told me later. "We played tag. We had races. He was fast.
"He didn't fight with anybody. And he didn't get anything wrong in math.
"The teachers liked him. They put those 'good work' stickers on his papers.
"All my friends that know him said he was popular," Marc said. "That means a lot of people know him.
"He had sort of reddish hair.
"He was serious.
"He liked to play baseball.
"He was my friend, and I won't see him anymore."
Goodbye Bryan.
And goodbye again, Dudley.
Copyright Rocky Mountain News. Reprinted with permission.