Memories

Yesterday while driving down the freeway I was passed by a man on a motorcycle, most likely a Harley. Not an uncommon occurrence. I live in an area where the Harley, and other motorcycles, have become the midlife crisis toy of choice for many of the area residents.

But this man was different than the doctor, dentist or other professional who rides on the weekends and occasionally to the office. This man was wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and his "colors" prominently displayed on his back. Across the top, in an arch, it read "HESSIANS", on the bottom was some other lettering, probably his city name or other affiliation identification.

My first thought was that I have not seen a "Hessian" in years. The second thought was I wonder where Johnny Raeburn is today.

During elementary school my family lived in North Las Vegas, Nevada. Our next door neighbors on the left were the Raeburns. Johnny and I were about the same age and despite being in the same grade I don't think we were ever in the same class. Johnny was not really a friend, but he was a neighbor and my age so we often played together. Johnny just played different games than other kids. Games like, how far can you throw the cat, and can you run across the Smith's backyard without getting caught, and one of Johnny's all time favorites had to be, how many matches does it take to light the Jones' garage on fire?

Johnny was a rebel, a troublemaker, a kid who by 5th grade announced to me that when he grew up he wanted to be a "Hessian", a biker. So yesterday when I saw that biker's back as he passed me with his "colors" proudly displayed I thought of Johnny and for a minute wondered if he was still alive.

Now most people, who didn't grow up in the Las Vegas area in the 1960's, don't remember or even know who the Hessians are. In my memory they were a motorcycle gang which rivaled the Hell's Angels. At least in the Las Vegas area.

I'm sure that if we thought about it, every day we come across something which awakens a long forgotten childhood memory. Until yesterday I hadn't thought of Johnny Raeburn or his family in probably 20 years. But when I started to think of him I remembered a lot of things, like the time he enlisted me to help him break into a neighbor's garage and steal a lawn mower engine so he could use it on his mini-bike. That little caper didn't end well. Johnny threatened me with my life if I told anyone and then he had his older brother call me on the phone and pretend to be a juvenile probation officer. I spilled my guts and Johnny didn't kill me, but he beat me up pretty good.

By 8th grade Johnny no longer lived at home. If I remember correctly he went to live at a Boy's Ranch for 12 to 24 months. We moved away before he came home.