I first met Charlie when I was a bit of an immature kid. I was two years out of high school and struggling to do enough to stay enrolled in college at Bowling Green State University. Motivation is something I have had battles with throughout my life and the summer of 1998 was probably my most lazy. I had lost my job working for the school when I failed to show up a few times (can't really blame them, can ya?) and spent the rest of the summer bumming around and living off hand-outs from my Dad. Not that he was giving me much, but then he didn't know I was unemployed either. I had paid my rent for the summer in advance, so I really didn't have many bills. When August rolled around and I had to get a job (a new lease was starting and I had to pay rent again), I walked into a restaurant called Frickers and filled out an application. I was hired on the spot and began work within a few days.
The restaurant, if you're not familiar, is a wing joint, not unlike a Hooters, but without the skimpy outfits for the serving staff. If you've worked in a kitchen, especially in August, you know how hot and dirty and smelly the work is, but it was also a lot of fun and I made friends there that have proven to be the best friends of my life. Shortly after starting at Frickers, I was given a role where I would work lunch shifts in the kitchen. I worked side-by-side with Charlie Tuna.
Charlie was a free spirit if I've ever met one. He never had a harsh word for anyone, no matter the situation, and never got rattled by the fast-paced, high-pressure environment of the kitchen. I won't say that I always enjoyed working with him, but I will say that he made me a better cook and taught me to do what it takes to get the job done. He did this without any hands-on instruction though; he did it because Charlie would disappear for 10-15 minute stretches in the middle of the lunch rush. Considering that it was usually only him and I on the line, this meant I had the whole lunch shift basically by myself. There were many times that his flightiness upset me, but as I look back on those days now, I really can't fault him. Charlie wasn't hiding in the back or sneaking a smoke break, he was out in the dining room, chatting with friends of his. And if you ever met Charlie, you were his friend as far as he was concerned.
After Charlie left Frickers, he caught on as a doorman and floor-walker at Howard's Club H, a popular live music bar downtown. For the next decade, whenever I would walk into Howard's, Charlie would greet me with a smile, a hug, and usually a free cover charge. I saw his band play a few times and Charlie was a talented musician who showed the same personality on stage that he did off of it. He just loved people and being around them. It didn't matter that he was at least twice as old as the people he was around, Charlie was at home in the crowd, and always happy to be there.
I was born and raised in Lima, Ohio before moving up to BG for college, but I still consider Bowling Green to be my hometown, because that's where I really "grew up." Your parents, if you're lucky, will give you the basic tools to tackle life, but until you step out on your own and make your own mistakes and learn how to pull yourself up from those mistakes, you don't learn how to live. I have never been one who fully embraces my fellow man. I'm generally bitter, pessimistic, and sarcastic. Charlie was none of those things. He was a man who, in a decade, I never saw in a bad mood. I can't go 10 minutes without losing my patience, let alone 10 years.
We would all do better to look at life through Charlie's eyes a bit more often. I know I would.
Rest in Peace Charlie Tuna, you touched many more lives than you'll ever know. And you will be missed.
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