This one's for you, Big Homie.

Fairfield Daily Republic
September 22, 2011

Social networking revived an old friendship
By Kelvin Wade

Facebook has become so ubiquitous it’s almost like having an email address and cell phone: you’re the odd man out if you don’t have one in 2011. Having a Facebook account paid off for me on Feb. 8, 2009, when I received a message from an old friend, Billy Dunn, asking, “Is this you, my man? Do you remember cutting class with me . . . and us running into that crazy drunk chick in the Mustang?” That was Bill. Cutting to the chase.

Bill (he went by Bill back then) was my best friend at Armijo. I met him my sophomore year. A friend of mine, Shawn Brown, shared a locker with him in A Wing and told me Bill would always steal and eat his lunch. So one day I had Shawn give me his sandwich. I took it to the bathroom, opened the sandwich and put soap on it. I wrapped it up and put it back in a brown lunch sack. We put it back in the locker.

At lunchtime, Bill Dunn came up to me and Shawn saying, “That was messed up what you guys did to that sandwich!” We cracked up. And that’s how I met him.

He was a smart guy with a twisted sense of humor and loved horror movies. We were two peas in a pod.

As juniors we had a creative writing class together. He was a talented writer. We would try to outdo each other with our gory horror stories. It got so bad that the teacher, Ms. Keys, had me meet with the head of the English Department to find out why I wrote such horrific tales. My stories were giving her nightmares! Bill found it hilarious.

Bill gave me the nickname “CW.” The guy was my best friend in school and he didn’t know my name started with a K. I didn’t tell him until months later because I liked the way CW sounded vs. KW.

After high school, we lost touch. I’d heard Bill went into the Navy but that was it.

After contacting me on Facebook, we fell right back into our friendship as if the intervening 26 years didn’t exist. He lived in a suburb of Atlanta. He told me about his wife and how proud he was of his two kids.

One Sunday evening we spoke on the phone for hours. We laughed about the crazy things we did at Armijo. He was surprised when I told him our old creative writing teacher, Deborah Keys, now advised the state Legislature on African-American educational issues. He was interested to know how Fairfield had changed.

We shared some of the struggles we’d had in life and bonded over chronic health conditions we both have. We were amazed at some of the similar experiences we had. We found we shared the same nuanced political views, which was surprising because we’d never spoken about politics before.

I was moved to hear him speak of his faith. His Bible reading inspired me to pick up the book I had become estranged from. His faith stoked mine.

He told me when he swung back this way to visit his father that we would meet up at Sandy’s 101 Omelets. He missed Sandy’s since moving to Georgia.

Last week I was messing around on Facebook and decided to check and see what my old friend Billy Dunn was up to. When you have hundreds of ‘friends’ on Facebook, you don’t necessarily chat with them all on a regular basis. I typed in his name to go to his page and was shaken to see friends and family members posting a bunch of RIP notices.

Health issues caught up with him and Billy Dunn left this life on Sept. 8 at the age of 44. The meeting at Sandy’s was not to be.

I’m grateful we had the opportunity to reconnect and contribute to each other’s lives. Such is the true power of social networking and the enduring power of friendship. Peace.
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ADDITIONAL NOTES: Facebook is a trip. I've reconnected with a woman I haven't seen since we were both 8 or 9. It gave me the opportunity to apologize to Ms. Goodsell for being such an ass in my 8th grade English class. She said I was far from the worst and accepted my apology. It's given me the opportunity to say hell no to a friendship with my heart-devouring ex. LOL Social networking has made it possible to chat with authors I admire and meet a lot of interesting people. Of course, lots of people from junior high and high school, though there are many more I've yet to find. Perhaps my generation is the last to ever lose contact. Now, if people so choose, they can never lose contact with people in their life. I wonder what effect it will have on things like high school reunions.

Bill was a great guy. His first nickname for me was 'the Big Bopper.' Don't know why. Didn't uch like being named after a dead 50's singer. He changed it to CW, which I liked. He was funny, always encouraging me to chase different girls like Carol Weathers, Martha Sheldon and TJ (who I did have a lil crush on which she'll be seeing here the first time.) "Dude, did you see how she said hi to you?" "Yeah. Because I said hi to her." "Yeah, but did you hear the way she said it?" LOL

He had this idea that he and I should run for Rally Commissioner. Co-commissioners, I guess. He wanted us to dress up as Black Muslims with the bowties and have a whole little shtick. He had lots of crazy ideas. We didn't do it because we would've never beaten Shane Clontz. Shane was insanely popular and used to do this air guitar/crazy dance in A Wing that everyone loved.

Unfortunately, I can't relate all the old stories Bill and I shared. Those were crazy times. I probably shouldn't have included the "drunk chick in the Mustang" bit because I'm likely to be unfriended because of it. Oops.

Being a teenager in high school is such an awkward thing. He was one of those people that helped me navigate those years more comfortably and confidently. He had great successes and spectacular setbacks in life. I really liked and admired the way he surrendered to his faith in recent years. "I've been doin' it my way all this time and it hasn't been working, homie, so I need to try something else." I like the fact that he was living his faith. Not just talking about it. He'd had brushes with death so I know in the end, he faced it bravely.

44 years old. Same age as me. Embrace your life like there's no tomorrow because one of these days, it'll be true. Rest in peace, Big Homie.