Jesse Roach

Lowell

His name was Andy Kimble. We used to skate together on my block when I was a kid. There

were maybe 5 or 6 of us that created a little group that would congregate at the playground up

the street from my house and hangout.

Andy was older than me, a ginger guy of average height. I remember vividly one day waiting for

the school bus he had a huge anarchy A on his arm that looked all infected and fucked up. He

had carved it into his arm with a loose guitar string and he cut deep as hell. I bet it’s still there

almost 20 years later. He wore that around like a badge of honor so proud of his work.

Everyone thought it was so cool, myself included.

He was always the kid that had to set the bar for everyone else. He always did the gnarliest

trick, took the biggest risk and often times was the one who got hurt the worst. He always took it

on the chin. Whenever we thought for sure that he messed himself up for real this time, he

would get up and walk it off immediately.

One day another friend of ours was being a huge asshole to him and they started arguing.

This kid was always a dickhead that’s probably why I only remember his face and nothing else,

anyways I think Andy had brought a wrench set or multi tool to help set up a board for him and

they got heated over something dumb. We were skating some flat ground in front of this

unnamed individuals house because it was the halfway point between all of our houses so it

made sense. This kid scooped up Andy’s tools and went straight into his house and locked the

door. Andy was pissed and immediately banged on his door yelling for his shit back. The

banging soon turned to Andy kicking his front door. We just sat there and watched knowing full

well we couldn’t say a damn thing to de escalate it. After like 15 minutes Andy kicked his front

door clean in and this kids mom tweaked out. No idea where she was for the first 5 minutes of

him yelling but she called the cops and they came and manhandled the fuck out of Andy. He

had to have been no older than 14. I remember them hauling him away in cuffs and a week later

with no word his family put their house up for sale and we never heard from him again.

Lots of the kids in my neighborhood came from some sort of broken home and I think that’s why

we were always in the street for as long as physically possible. I remember sneaking out

sometimes to hangout at the playground at night with my friends and we were all so young.

That playground held a lot of firsts for me. First fist fight, first cigarette, first puff of weed, first

time I’d seen a gun. I think those were the first times I’d understood the importance of

community. Even if I didn’t realize it when I was a kid.

I’m a guy with good ideas