He Is A Real Person

   "So you are trying to tell me, that characters from movie history, come to you as ghosts, when you are in a dire situation?"
   "Yes, exactly," said my best friend, of almost five years when we were kids.
   I met Robert James Bordak right away when he moved into my neighborhood. His parents bought the house just on the other side of the house next to mine.
   Well, not actually mine, but the house my parents owned and I was growing up in. You see, Bob and I were both thirteen years old when he first told me this story. We both went to the same middle school. We had the same homeroom, homeroom teacher, and the same student clicks thinking we were both a couple of weird geeks.
   Mind you, this was a time before being a geek was popular. Back in those days, homes still had rotary dial phones. One, maybe two of them. Cars were made of steel, not plastic. I used to get a weekly allowance of one-dollar per week. Then Bob and I would take our allowance, walk the two and a half miles to a Target store, buy the latest hottest song on a forty-five record, and still have enough change to buy two McDonald's hamburgers for fifteen cents each.
   You would expect me to say it was a simpler time, but I would be lying. The Vietnam War was in its heyday. The Vice-President, Spiro Agnew, just got impeached. The President, Richard Nixon, was a lying crook who should have been impeached. Protests and riots were a weekly news headline on the TV Network newscasts. Walter Cronkite was the only man in the media that the country trusted.
   A simpler time? I don't think so.
   But that is not what this story is all about. It is about my ghost seeing best friend, Robert James.
   "Give me an example where a ghost came to your rescue?" I asked him.
   "Remember that time we went to the horse ranch?" He asked me. "With the Cub Scouts a couple years back."
   "Yeah," I said. "At first I thought the Scout Master was going to chew you a new ass when you wouldn't ride that horse. But when you got on, you were jumping fences, creeks, and anything else that was three feet high or three feet wide."
   I paused thinking about it. Then I added, "You were so cool!"
   "Well, maybe," Bob said. "But remember how I sat there next to the horse staring off wilderness?"
   "Sure, why?"
   "That is when Tom Mix, the famous cowboy from the silent era of movies came riding up on, Tony-The Wonder Horse." He explained.
   "Wow, how do you know that stuff?" I said. "I've never even heard of them before."
   It would have been foolish of me to doubt his accuracy about the actor and the name of his horse. Remember when I said we were considered weird geeks? Bob had the knack of remembering all kinds of trivia, long before Trivial Pursuit was invented. And what was my geekiness you ask? I was guilty by association.
   Robert had all the brains, the imagination, and skills to be a geek in any generation. It just so happened that he was my friend.
   He told me that Tom Mix came riding up, close to the horse Bob was supposed to ride, and hopped off of The Wonder Horse, landing on Bob's without hitting the ground.
   "Get up here on the horse you cowpoke," Tom Mix supposedly said to him. "I'll sit up here and we'll ride this bronco together. Hold onto to the reigns, and it'll look like you are handling this steed all by yourself."
   Looking back, it did look like someone did pull Bob up on the horse, but no one was there. He also told me, on the bus ride up to the ranch, that he had never been on a horse before.
   He sure could handle one that day though.
   I asked him for more examples and he gave them to me in great detail.
   Now, if I had been a writer back then, or if I had a memory like an elephant, I could have written down all he had told me and started writing a best selling series of books, on the line like Nancy Drew. Maybe not solving mysteries, but going on adventures that growing boys would love to read and dream about!
   I just wish today that I either had his imagination, or his ability to see ghosts.
   What kind of extraordinary stories could I write then?

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