McNea Stories

I have a lifetime of memories that includes my marriage; my two kids and their marriages; and the arrival of remarkable grandchildren. To be sure, my life is full of fond recollections albeit flawed by some lack of accuracy and clarity. One central figure in some positive vignettes of my high school era is the incomparable Jim McNea. Regrettably, I have not been able to stay in touch with Jim as I became an adult. The beauty of that fact is that, for me, thinking of Jim McNea I am a young man with a world of possibilities and dreams for the future. Paraphrasing a famous movie line: When the legend becomes the truth – print the legend.  

The stories I share are consistent with a philosophy I am sure I gained from my mother. I have come to believe that the truth belongs to the teller. Knowing full well that I cannot fully capture the truth of a person from any printed account but I submit that vivid memories that always bring a smile are telling in their authenticity.

The Record Club

McNea’s father was in law enforcement. So, as a high school chum, you might think you could gain some insights on how to avoid trouble in Lakewood, Ohio – the city of homes. But we were not yet fully law-abiding mature adults. It was an age of vinyl  records. Your record collection was part of your identity in high school. Cat Stevens, David Bowie, Elton John, Lou Reed, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Rod Stewart, Led Zeppelin, T. Rex, Chicago, Black Sabbath might be staples that were typically part of the Columbia Record Club advertising that featured some favorites. You get a great deal on a dozen albums in first order and all you gotta do is agree to pay full price for 10 records purchased during your 2 year membership. It was McNea who understood that he could beat that system. He was in until it was time to advise them that they could not hold him to the contract. After all, at 15 or 16 years of age he was a minor. (So, he would keep the initial collection with no further obligation. Thank you very much.)

Cruizin’ with McNea

By the time McNea got his driver’s license and acquired a kind of beat-up car to bomb around town. It brings a smile as I recall one such weekend outing with McNea at the wheel. Remember Jim’s dad was a cop. Getting pulled over on Detroit avenue could have consequences for our friend. He couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17 when he effectively pleaded with the police officer on Detroit Avenue. He didn’t mean to be speeding but the “the big kids were chasing us.” The officer let him go with a warning. When the coast was clear we laughed at Jim’s convincing act about alluding big kids on our tail in front of Manner’s Restaurant.

Scrub Club President

McNea was my teammate on LHS football team when we were in the que as Juniors to hopefully earn a place in the starting line-up. McNea was frustrated by the lack of playing time but made the the best of time as back-up. He declared himself the President of the Scrub Club. (We agreed that 2 minutes of playing time gets you eliminated from that organization. It was so much fun to laugh about our lowly status on the team at that point in time.) Later on, McNea had a playing time highlight. He and another player jumped on a fumble. He was always a team player but not happy about only being able to claim ½ of a fumble recovery after that play.

Rocket Robin   

My brother Greg and I have often recalled the point in time when the only way we would have a shot at playing hockey was to endure the madness of showing up when our club could arrange ice time. It was probably well after midnight on a school night when we found ourselves after a practice gathering at a diner on 117^th street jumping and jiving to Michael Jackson singing Rocket Robin on the juke box. We laughed and rocked like there was no tomorrow. Rockin' robin, (tweet-tweet-tweet) Rock-rock-rockin' robin' (tweet-tweedilly-tweet) Go rockin' robin 'cause we're really gonna rock tonight (tweet-tweedilly-tweet)

Party at the Morgans

Greg and I called McNea when Dave Bruner sent us a message via instant messenger on Facebook.  Denise Deville also got a message like that too. Dave suggested reaching out to McNea as Jim might not be long for this world. Dave Haas had hinted at this news in July at the LHS 45^th class reunion. Without knowing any details we couldn’t help smile at the Jim McNea we knew back in the day. He once learned from us that our parents would be out of town on a weekend night and used that information to declare that our house would be the place to party. His underground telephone chain and word of mouth resulted in a collection of classmates and friends at our house with their 3.2 Stroh’s beers and Boone’s Farm in tow. Our parents arrived home ahead of schedule. McNea was no-where in sight. My mom singled-out Denise saying “I’m especially disappointed in you, Denise.”  I assured my mom it was not Denise’s fault.  McNea was never identified at the instigator of that gathering but we spent some time raking beer cans out to the bushes in the coming weeks.

I ain’t dead yet

Greg and I called McNea and left a sort of rambling voice mail message in Septermber. He called back and assured us “I ain’t dead yet, but I appreciate the call.” The three of us has a pleasant conversation with a mixture of memories and updates. 

Jim McNea passed on October 12, 2019. Rest in Peace Jim.