A forewarning for my readers today: this is a sad post upcoming. If you're not in the mood to read about tragedy, then I ask that you come back another time, or later when I'm back to posting about positive content.
My parents moved our family from Paradise Valley to Scottsdale in 1995. At first, it was a rough transition for me because I had a nice circle of friends I had grown up with in PV. We would ride our bikes through ditches and washes around our neighborhood, many nights of playing street hockey in front of our yard, and having friends over for slumber parties where we'd play video games and trade basketball cards.
When my parents moved to Scottsdale, I was forced to make new friends at Mountainside Middle School. I can still remember not fitting in at first. The school had a lot of students who dressed and acted more preppy, wearing clothes like Tommy Hilfiger that was a little more expensive than my No Fear t-shirts. I found myself having to change my look to fit in: new wardrobe, got rid of the bowl cut with my hair parted down the middle and cut it all short. I was simply the new kid who hadn't found his place yet.
About a year later, I remember a kid name Mike approach me in the halls at Mountainside. He mentioned to me how his parents were buying a new home in the Carino Canyon complex where I was now living. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I figured it'd be nice to have another kid to play with in the neighborhood. Little did I know this was the creation of what would become one of my longest and best friendships in life.
Over the years, I grew much closer to Mike and the Band family. Being a 30 second walk down the street really helped, as we were only separated by 2 houses. Mike would come over to play basketball and video games, I would go over to his house and do the same. Even as we got older and attended different colleges and now living in different cities (Tucson for me, D.C. for him), it was easy to keep in touch because we'd coordinate being back at our parents' houses at the same time over the breaks. The Band family would even invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner, holiday drinks, and just casual get-togethers. I honestly felt like an adopted son at times.
Today I am writing to honor Mike's dad, Alan Band. He passed away two weeks ago as he was fighting a battle with cancer and unfortunately did not win. His funeral and burial were last week on the 12th and 13th of December, 2017. Mr. Band - as I called him no matter how much older I got - was a very friendly man to me. He always made me feel welcome, providing me with more food than I could eat and giving me sage advice over the years as if I were his own son. I finally realized how much he cared for me when one night, as he was having friends over for dinner, in his drunken stupor he couldn't stop telling them "how much he loved this kid" with a huge smile on his face.
I knew Mr. Band for 20 years. I still remember how happy he was at Mike's wedding a couple years ago and I'm really glad he got to see his only son get married. He was very humored about the speech I gave when I was best man at Mike's wedding, mostly about how I wasn't going to let Mike into the "Asian club" even though half of his friends are Asian. I only have fun and fond memories of Mr. Band and I believe he lived a very good life. He went a little early, but I think he can rest peacefully knowing how much he achieved and accomplished.
My condolences to Mike and his mother Mary, as it's obviously been a rough time for them this past year. They are doing well though, all things considered, and the family still remains strong and positive of the future to come.
Rest in peace Mr. Band, you've earned it.
