Pass The Ammo

Update » Working on a tribute site.

I was in kindergarten when we first met. I can’t say I have alot of memories of him back then because the next year he was gone to homeschooling. It would be a good 7 years or so before we would meet up again.

It was the first day of 7th grade, and I was 12. My dad opened a grade school at the church he pastored, and this was the first year of its opening. It was a small class, and I just about knew everybody there being that they were from the church and the former Christian school I attended. My mom had told me of a new kid coming to class that morning. One who I went to kindergarten with, and how he needed a friend here at the school. It was Michael Wahl. He sat on the couch real quite like and shy. Didn’t really say hi or nothin, just acknowledged my greeting.

Class was about to start when his mom, Monica, pulled the classroom door open and ushered him in. I had a seat open next to me, and I just recall him luggin this huge backpack across his shoulders as he came in. The thing had to be half the size of him.

Class had not even been in session for more than a half hour before Michael wispered to me, “Hey… check this out.” He reached into that oversized bag and pulled out a hand grenade. We were instantly best friends. It didn’t have the fuse or powder, but it was the coolest thing I’d seen that half of my life. I asked, and his mom got me one the next week. Today it sits in my gun cabinet. This was the start of one of the greatest and most fun friendships I’d ever had.

His old man owned a surf shop in down town Pismo Beach and his family attended the Vineyard church in SLO. So he was already a “cool” guy. We would spend the weekends dressed in full camo’s and blasting squirrels with our pellet guns in the pasture that lie between my house and the school. I was never more impressed than the one time when he managed to get himself 3 squirrels within seconds, using only the crossman air rifle that he had. I watched in amazement as he fired a round, one down, pumped that rifle 6 times as fast as he could, fire another round, two down, pump it 6 times again, and manage to tag a moving target, making his 3rd kill.

Him and I really turned out to be a combo for chaos. I guess we sorta sparked off eachother. Alone and Michael was calm, reserved and even shy… and it was the same for me. But put us in a room together, and we were breaking every rule, and generally raising hell. Folks in church and school were constantly telling my folks that we were a bad mix. They tried to keep us under control, but we always managed to get into some kind of trouble together.

That was our greatest year together, and by far the favorite year of my young life.

The next few years went by just about as any other young feller’s did. Me and Michael were getting into the rock ‘n’ roll scene, and the folks didn’t like it one bit. We were a pretty scruffy lookin bunch, but we had fun. Age 15 came around the bend for me, and we were packin’ up and moving south. It was hard saying good bye, but we were only 5 hours away. I would take the train up every summer to hang out with the old crew.

My senior year in highschool a feller by the name of Joe was moving down, and he happened to be good friends with Michael. I’d met him once or twice at rock ‘n’ roll shows, but that was it. Michael moved in with Joe, and next thing you know, it was just like old times. We were always hanging out after school, goin to shows, and just having a good time. I was in photography at school, so we took a bunch of photos then.

I’ll never meet another person quite like Michael. This is a guy who would show up for youth group in a full ninja getup, for no reason at all. I used to wake up in the morning and find him sleeping on a pile of my dirty laundry with his face resting on the tread of my combat boots. I would laugh and laugh, but he never thought of it as a big deal. It was normal.

My folks were never real proud of him, that wasn’t a secret. They were always tellin’ him he should be making something of himself, goin to college or working on a career. But that wasn’t Michael. He was young at heart till the end. He woulden’t stick with a job for too long. Once he got bored of it, he was movin on to something new.

He was always the one that I had to keep in line. He was like a brother to me, and I always felt it was my job to make sure he was towin’ the mark. I always knew in my heart that I’d settle down, raise a family, and be a regular joe. But him and I fell on different sides of the fence those last couple years. He took up smokin, and tattooing. Which isn’t a big deal to me, being that I’ve given a couple of tattoo’s out myself. But he didn’t seem concerned with his future, like plans of marrying, or building a future. He lived from day to day. And I have to admit that I respected that, but there comes a time to prepare for the future, and he never did. But he always managed to get by, as do most who live that way. And I believe that a faith in God is the right way to live that lifestyle. Consider the birds.

Michael had moved back up to Arroyo Grande, and I’d make a trip up every now and then to hang out with all the guys. After finishing my graphic design school, the family and I had moved to north Idaho. I woulden’t hear from him again, untill about a year later.

Jeff and I had just returned from a round up at a local ranch, when my cell phone rang. It was Michael calling me to tell me that Johnny Cash had died. They were having a “man in black” party in his honor, and he just wanted me to know. That was the last time I spoke directly to him. The next year would consist of random emails on the status of things. He would write telling me that he was trying his darndest to kick his smoking habbit, or about his girlfriend, or his sister getting married etc.

Monica called today. Said she’d been trying to track our number down. But she wanted to call and let us know that Michael had accidently been shot. He had died in the hospital that same day.

Michael, his younger brothers, and a couple friends were cleaning the guns and preparing for a Shoot Out they would attend. While talking about fancy gunplay, my name came up about cowboy shooting. “Chad’s a cowboy, he probably knows how to twirl a gun”.

In the attempt to a prank, Michael Wahl accidently discharged his firearm and put a slug in his head. He died February 11th at age 23, not long after the shot happened around 5:30pm. My heart aches for the loss of this friend whom I have many a fond memories with.

I should not greive his death, but I should celebrate his life. Raised in the church, Michael knew God. But I am glad to know that Michael has his place in Glory Land.

The moral of this, folks, is that you never, never, never fool with a loaded gun.

Proverbs 4:6

Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you;

love her, and she will watch over you.

Rest in peace, Michael. May God grant your soul mercy and grace. I love you buddy.