“Is it bio-degradable?”- What you'd get from David if you chucked something in the gutter. Back then we called it littering.
My first memory of David Avila was in front of our tiny apartment on Cronus St. in El Sereno. I had happened upon a pretty impressive collection of Hot Wheels and David along with his cousin Ricky Medina came over after school one day to check out my rides. Hot Wheels and seven year olds lend for quite a ruckus and soon my mother was out on the front porch yelling and chasing my new friends’ home much to my dismay. No after school snacks, no “How’s your mother doing?” Just my mom, in a fit of “nerves” she use to call it, lashing out for no good reason.
You could imagine the horror of a young boy having lost the chance to gain friendship with the cool kids from school. Alienation, self loathing, fear. Not the first, not the last.
Perhaps it was my insecurity and their pity that compelled the Avila’s to take it upon themselves to go out of their way to make me feel welcomed in their home a few day’s later. At the time, my Hot Wheels collection was my world, a world that soon would be changed by a smaller, but much more impressive collection quite innocently revealed by David. His record collection.
I had heard the oldie’s records in my sisters’ room but the sounds seemed to fill the air like a dim soundtrack, a background to the urban sprawl we had been thrown into. Marvin Gaye, The Supremes, the music heard on the radio. I was somewhat curious but for the most part indifferent. Not yet nostalgic.
But in the confines of David’s room, the needle seemed to jump off the record to the punch, harmony and growl of Rock music.
Though the years those records would prove to be the glue that nurtured our friendship. A friendship that provided me with much needed stability in my life. A far cry from the dysfunctional, hectic, chaos that waited for me at home. The Avila’s power was never cut off; they always had food in the fridge and most notably to me, never raised their voices.
The household was a haven of joy, charm and groceries. Sarah Avila always greeting me with a smile, and exuberance in her voice I don’t recall hearing from my mother.
Not that mother was unloving; she simply lacked the ability to filter out the stress and harshness of everyday life. My mother wore it on her sleeve and was willing to pour it all over anyone who would come in earshot. I heard the pains in her voice loud and clear. Even at seven. Looking back I long for the wisdom and confidence to go back in time and free my poor mother of those burdens. She also wasn’t fortunate enough to have a second home to go to as I had discovered a mere three blocks away.
As the teen years marched on, life at my household did get better and I slowly emerged from my shell to help spread the laughter and song that I felt growing in me. A confidence and maturity that I was blessed to experience with great fiends like David Avila.
We grew up in a tough area and it was difficult to keep your wits about you. But we carried on thanks to The Beatles and The Stones and all those records that seemed to now be coming in waves. New ones, loud ones, strange ones and funny ones. Music propelled us into the stratosphere and our imaginations filled with the possibilities this music opened up. So much so, that David began plucking away on an electric guitar. Like everything else he put his mind to, he became great.
David was just that way. He had the golden touch. He was charming, popular and full of life. As we grew into middle school and high school our band of misfits became my sanctuary. We lived life to its fullest, laughed at our adventures and took in the big city with all its glory. All with David leading the way.
I knew that as school wound down I had to strike out on my own and start a new life for myself. I couldn’t go through life being a follower; I needed to spread my wings. Inspired I’m sure by the very song from Queen. When I made the decision to attend college some 500+ miles north, I was amazed at the heartfelt goodbyes given by the Avila’s. They had guided me through all those difficult years and now I was up and leaving. They were proud but seemed truly saddened by my leaving. No maps to guide me, just the hope of a better future. Off I went.
University soon engulfed me and changed my way of life. I had a new start and now was surrounded by a smaller, calmer way of life. I could take the lead on things. I was an adult. Well, slowly becoming one. That tapestry of a flowering young man is for another story. All I know is one night in the haze of books, bongs and co-eds I received a call from home with news that would change my world forever.
David had developed a rather large brain tumor that was invading his ability to do a lot of things we take for granted, like staying awake and focusing on daily tasks.
The days and weeks that past were filled with tests and uncertainty, more tests, more questions and few answers. The whole time David remained his gregarious self. Brave and almost cavalier in the face of this horrible menace. The first wave of treatments left David in a state of disorientation and confusion that morphed into a childlike state. A return to innocence that would give David the blind courage to endure through numerous reoccurring battles with the brain tumor.
Days and months pass, all the while David continually LIVES with this affliction. It becomes a part of life, but David knows this is not to define him. It’s as if he has been given a second and third chance, and fourth and fifth opportunity to laugh in the face of the unseen monster.
The months turn into years and I grow on with the many complications of life, love and the pursuit of anything meaningful. It soon becomes clear to me that David does not need to battle these altruistic questions; his map is so well defined. He is courage personified. The job interviews we face, the loves we chase, the children we raise, these paths all are well traveled and as we all fumble and rise above the challenges, David continues on, his challenges have been embraced, concurred and forgotten. He is frozen in time. Childlike and full of hope and joy. Grateful for all things. Things we take for granted.
David embarks on a new life of adventure and discovery. Almost with complete freedom from the day to day grind we face, he sets out on adventures never possible had he not been put in such a position. The path of daily survival has empowered him to fearless heights. He is very much alive. Not able to work, he is free to live. That same smile, that same joy, the songs still resonate.
The years and miles have not kept David and I close. I make the occasional phone call and make the very occasional trip to Southern California. Every time, refreshed in the knowledge that David is still David. The Avila’s are the same heartfelt family. No sorrow or misfortune can splinter their resolve. That same house on that same street holds frozen in time the endless possibilities of youth.
I am not a doctor, and I must admit, I have never pressed the Avila’s for too many medical details. But this I do know. The fact that David Avila is alive today is a testament to courage and faith. He is truly a miracle.
For me, he is always in my thoughts. Always a reminder that no matter what obstacle comes my way, I can reach back and think of my friend David and know deep in my heart that anything is possible. And everything is wonderful.
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