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I don't blame people for not liking me, I didn't like me either. There were kids I hung out with but none I considered to be soul mates. We were all misfits and most of us didn't even like each other. The common denominator in my clique was Jimmy Van Patten. We all liked him and I think it is safe to say he liked most of us. But most of us didn't like anybody but Jimmy. Though Jimmy wasn't tight with a lot of people he was well known on campus. His dad was a popular character actor on both the big and small screen who went on to star as the father in the popular sitcom called 'Eight is Enough.' Jimmy was also getting small acting parts at the time but nothing like his younger brother, Vincent, who was scoring some major roles in Disney films. When I knew them the Van Patten's all resided in a luxurious townhouse community in Sherman Oaks called Horace Heights. Horace Heights was a sanctuary for exotic birds and rich people. Throughout the grounds there were brooks flowing amidst lush foliage. Dozens of giant birdcages teemed with a host of noisy, feathered creatures.

Another member of our campus clan was Bill. He also lived in Horace Heights. Bill and I never really got along. Actually, I hated his guts and he hated mine. Bill was this short redheaded dumpling and his mouth was a fountain of insults, just spewing all the time. We were always getting into tangles because I couldn't stand his mouthing off at me. One time I shut his yap with my fist. I didn't think he'd punch me back but he walloped me one and bloodied my lip pretty good. He didn't mouth off at me much after that incident but I still didn't like the twerp. We just kind of tolerated each other because we both hung around Jimmy.

Dennis was a different story, I did sort of like him. He was a blond haired Swede who lived in the Barrio. Though this chunky kid grew up in Sweden he was convinced he was a Chicano. He spoke with a broken Euro-Mexican accent and always confused his English with Spanish. Dennis preferred to dress like a Mexican low-rider and sported the pointy black shoes we called "cockroach killers".

I never got to know most of the kids in our clique outside of school. I can't even tell you where they lived. There was Kinsey who rarely spoke a word. I'm not sure anyone in our clan ever had a real conversation with the guy. He just sat there like a porch dog and smiled occasionally if someone said something amusing. Then there was Zack and John and Dave. We all hung out in the quad together at lunchtime but when the bell rang, we all became sudden strangers disappearing into our undisclosed locations. This went on for years, junior high and high school, hanging with the same crowd but never discovering the secret lives they led off campus. With the exception of Dennis and Bill, I didn't know which dwelt among the privileged or lived in the slums. All I cared about was where Jimmy lived. I logged many hours at Horace Heights and Jimmy put in a lot of time at my humble home. For all I know the rest of the guys could have been trolls that slept under a bridge somewhere.

Jimmy had come to California from Queens and he spoke with a funny New York accent, like Rodney Dangerfield on crack. His voice was always filled with enthusiasm as if Ed McMahon had just arrived at his door to announce that he had won the Publisher's Clearing House sweepstakes. His huge blue eyes were always lit up as if he really was celebrating some kind of big win. Life always seemed a surprise to him in vivid contrast to me. I had the countenance of one who just had a cop show up at my door with a warrant. Initially I thought Jimmy was kind of odd. He was into these stupid magic tricks and he played a lot of practical jokes - mean practical jokes which at times were played on me.

I think I was the first kid to befriend Jimmy when he moved to the San Fernando Valley from Hollywood Hills but I am also willing to concede that my recollection is somewhat fuzzy. I offer this disclaimer as there is an old saying - if you can remember the sixties you probably weren't there. Having done the math, however, I think it's likely that I was there. I'm further convinced I was Jimmy's first friend. Speaking of math, that is exactly how Jimmy and I met. He sat behind me in math class. It was a class for kids who didn't get math. Jimmy and I were much more advanced than that; I'm not sure how we wound up in there. Most likely it had to do with overcrowding in the Los Angeles County school district. In our jurisdiction any electives requested were automatically forwarded to the Make a Wish Foundation. As far as the three 'R's, unless you were an honor student they'd stick you anywhere. The classes were always packed tighter than a sardine can.

In beginner's arithmetic Jimmy and I were gifted students. Because of our superior skills in basic addition and subtraction we always finished our work rather quickly, so we felt justified when we dragged into class late, breezed through our work then spent the rest of the period goofing off or, as Mr. Brown put it, disrupting everybody. Grades were never a problem for Jimmy or me in Mr. Brown's class. We managed to get A's on all our work. I'm not bragging mind you, any third grader would have scored well. But because Jimmy and I were such goof-offs Mr. Brown failed us after the first semester. This came as quite a shock not only to us but also to our parents.

I am quite certain that Jimmy and I set a new precedent for Van Nuys Junior High School that year. We were the first kids in history to receive a failing grade from Mr. Brown. Up until 1969 most believed this to be virtually impossible. Though we proved both the entire faculty and student body wrong I was not proud of our accomplishment. I was destined to change the course of history once again by raising my score from a flunk to an A by the following semester, which I did. I am not sure how Jimmy fared the second time around but I was not too worried for him. Being the magician he was he could easily turn an F to an A with the stroke of a wand, as long as it had ink in it.

One time Jimmy brought a long stick to class. I didn't know exactly why and didn't care to ask. Thinking back I probably should have. My assumption was he had another stupid trick up his paisley sleeve. Before long Jimmy had me raising my right hand with my fingers curled into a circle as if holding onto a pipe. Then he told me to look to the front of the class and like a complete knee slapper I did. That's when he slid the long sharp stick through my hand and jabbed Kurt, who was seated directly in front of me. Kurt let out a loud yelp. By the time he turned around Jimmy had let go of the suspicious spear and I was looking guilty as all heck, at least from Kurt's perspective. I'm telling you, the kid had fire in his eyes and was flaming mad. I declined his offer to meet him at the bike racks after school as I didn't want my butt kicked for something I didn't do.

Jimmy was the first close friend I ever had that came from a happy and healthy two-parent home. All my other pals prior to him came from broken families like mine. In contrast, Jimmy had a loving mom and a very involved dad and two brothers he was super tight with. The oldest, Nels, didn't pounce on Jimmy and Jimmy never beat up on Vincent. I always thought that's what brothers did. As the youngest in my family, I got pounced on a lot. The Van Patten's, however, were all best buddies. I always envied them for how they all got along so well. It was obvious that they had tremendous affection for one another. They were much like the TV family in 'Eight is Enough' only with five less kids. Though I was a troubled boy the Van Patten clan gave me a sense of self worth because they were generally very kind and affirming toward me.

Jimmy and I talked a lot about faith. We even hung out at a Christian coffeehouse together. He was definitely a believer but I don't know if I'd go so far as to call him a follower. At least he wasn't hypocritical about this, he was who he was. I also owe it to Jimmy for buying me my first Christian book. It was a compilation of prayers called 'Are You Running with Me, Jesus?' As I look back upon my life I know He was, even when I was crawling.