Frank Reiter, a member of our crew back in high school and a friend of mine since as far back as grade school, died two weeks ago. He was just 21 and full of ambition.
Of course I wouldn’t expect anything like that to happen to a guy like Frank. This guy was the picture of health – a semi-organic lifestyle (he was, not too long ago, completely organic, and refused to eat my microwave-able snacks), and always exercising, showing off muscles and whatnot. He always played the role of the alpha male.
Frank was a big guy, easily six feet tall. And he wasn’t tall and lanky – the guy was wide as a truck. It’s just so funny how such a tragedy could happen to a guy who not only took care of himself, but took care of others as well. Stuff like this shouldn’t happen to people who look out for others.
I remember how Frank used to stand up for the underdogs back in high school. Whenever there was someone who was being bullied, he would automatically take the side of the scrawny kid. There was one instance when a lower school kid was being pushed around by a group of bigger kids, and Frank just stepped in and said: "What’s the problem here, huh? You guys picking on Pol?" (That was the kid’s name.) So here’s this huge guy, towering over the other kids – and when he told them to say sorry, they knew they had to mean it, or else. Of course Frank wouldn’t do anything to the other kids, but they automatically got the picture. There was a look on Pol’s face as if a guardian angel had just been sent down to help him. I don’t know if he ever realized what he was doing – he was trying to tell the other kids that bullying was wrong, but he also became a hero to the downtrodden. He was idealistic like that, and with good reason.
Frank was a dreamer, too. He had a lot of things he wanted to do, and me and my other friend Pablo were always the first ones to hear what he had to say. Frank would always tell us that things ought to be this way or that (this was his idealism kicking in again), but for some reason he always made sense. We didn’t always agree with what the others said all the time, but there was the understanding that we each made sense. It was the bringing together of three great minds – as we became convinced – that made our conversations so valuable to us.
We were "The Trio" back in high school. Frank, Pablo and I would be inseparable. Tres delinquentes. We had fun together, got in trouble together, and helped each other get over rough spots. Frank is one of my examples of what a loyal friend should be – someone who will stick by you no matter what. In The Trio, though, Frank was the "brainy muscle." Aside from being just big and strong, he always had something intellectual to say. I think in terms of having brains and brute force, Frank came pretty close to striking a balance. This is something I’m going to miss because pretty much all of our ups and downs were faced together. A trio can’t consist of only two members, even if I know that Frank isn’t really gone – he’s just watching over all of us from somewhere. But still, it’s not the same. And that really sucks.
It’s been two weeks now, and I think it all just sank in. I’m not gonna be able to have a beer with him when I go up to Baguio anymore. We’re not gonna go cruising around the mountain streets anymore. We won’t be able to share our thoughts on music, life, love, and the stars anymore. (It might sound cheesy, but there’s always a way to make any topic cool, especially if you have an Energizer bunny of a conversationalist like Frank.) No more lively discussions about random things, Frank’s favorite topic of conversation. Man, he talked about lots of things – from current events, to "pyramid power," all the way to how successful any business could be if the proper economic and marketing strategies were employed. There was so much going on in that head of his.
Maybe there was too much going on up there in his head for this world to handle. I’m looking at it optimistically, and wherever he is, I bet he’s doing all the things he talked about when he was with us here. He’s probably multi-tasking wherever he is – running an organic coffee shop, writing a philosophy book, having debates with Marx and other philosophers, all the while looking over us. He was loyal to us in life; I don’t see why this would be any different now that we’re not on the same plane.
And all his friends will stay loyal to him as well, until the time when we all meet up once again. Friendship doesn’t fade with death.
Peace out, Frank, you’re never gone.
Peace to Frank’s family, his Lourdes crew, and the Brent Baguio Community. We can’t see him now, but he’s not gone.