When I think about Andrew, I am not reminded of a specific moment, or a single time, but instead a wonderful series of laughter and joy. Andrew, Jake, Bart and I spent absolutely every day on Isabella beach, in the water, on the sand, climbing the rocks etc. Most importantly though, to know Jake Grand, was to know and love Andrew Dwyer, because one was not whole without the other. My fondest childhood memories on Fishers Island are the lazy days on Isabella with the Grands, Helfets, Dwyers and sometimes the Rand gang.
There were days in which Jake, Andrew, Bart and I spent the whole day in the water, because the waves were humongous and we had to spend all day with our Boogie boards waiting for the “Big Kahuna.” There were also those other days when the waves came in groups; we liked to call them families.
Throughout those days we would catch a wave and then immediately run back to catch its Big Sister, then after that one if we were really lucky the Big Brother came in just a short t ime later. Best of all though in those big families there was always the Big Mama wave on which we would ride, as long as you could imagine and at the end because it was the last, we would laugh in the surf still stretched out on the sand with huge smiles on our faces, hoping we would catch another just the same.
When forced by hunger, parents’ call or even just boredom, we did exit the water, there were always a thousand other activities to do. I remember the golf ball sand castles, with elaborate maze like paths, each bigger and more intricate than the last. We would spend hours with golf and paddle balls, or whatever we could come up with, creating an incredible roller coaster-like course from which we could continue our small adrenaline thrills.
There were times when we all had to be brought back down to Earth; we would forget that four foot sand jump with a golf ball just wasn’t possible and from here we would all rise and begin to destroy, jumping, tackling and wrestling the sand castle to the ground only to race back in the water to rid ourselves of the sand we had accumulated in places God only knows.
Often after these sunny days, we would meet for an excellent game of spoons. Far and away these were the funniest times I ever spent with my dear friend Andrew, no matter what the day, no matter who was in the group, Jake, Andrew and I always had to cheat, and Bart, being the chump that he was had to lose. We could contrive ways in which to win, never fairly and always ruthlessly. I would swear even to this day, that in our four-year period in this routine, Bart didn’t get a spoon once. Something, as a big sister, for which I will always be grateful.
Although our relationship continued and grew, and we developed teenage groups and cliques, Andrew and I were forever suspended in the childish amusement of picking on Bart, from later games of Beirut to never-ending evenings of TV trivia, Andrew and I had a pack… It was this joy and pleasure from childhood amusements and pranks for which I always love Andrew…I will never forget.