Remembering Tom Payne
Memory is a peculiar thing.
Old memories can arrive unbidden after decades, and yet still seem fresh and alive.
Today, I was sanding a basement window at the Cross House when Tom Payne reentered my mind. I have not thought about Tom in many years. But, I have never forgotten him.
In 1973, I was a sophomore at St. Petersburg High School. Tom was a year ahead of me, and it did not take me long to notice him. Indeed, Tom was highly noticeable. He was gorgeous, with a mane of long hair, but, most importantly, Tom radiated vitality and kindness. He was always smiling and seemed friendly to everybody.
I was awed by him, and even terrified. He was everything I was not. While Tom was outgoing, I was painfully shy, the result of an abusive childhood. While Tom seemed to delight in life, I struggled through every single day. While Tom was popular, even adored, I was a nobody with a bad haircut.
During the summer vacation, after finishing tenth grade, I was in Chess King, a clothing store at Central Plaza. As I approached the register with some bell-bottom jeans in hand, I froze. There was Tom Payne, laughing with the guy at the register. I felt paralyzed. Should I walk back into the dressing room? Could I dematerialize myself?
Then I heard: “Hi!”
Oh. My. God. Tom Payne had spoken to me. He then waved me over, with a big smile on his face. Somehow, my legs managed to propel myself forward.
“You go to St. Pete High, right?”
I could not believe my ears. Tom was aware of my existence? How was this possible?
I nodded. He then asked a few more questions. Then a miracle happened.
I blurted out a question. “Your hair is great. Where do you get it cut?” Immediately, I regretted being so forward. Tom would surely think me a fool. Or worse. Instead, Tom seemed genuinely pleased. “Thank you! I get it cut at the Together salon, over on First Avenue North. Ask for Gary.”
And with that, the salesperson handed Tom his purchase. Tom thanked him, turned to say that it was nice meeting me, and then vanished.
Arriving at home, I opened the phone book, found the number for Together, called, and nervously made an appointment, remembering to ask for Gary.
Tom Payne, in the 1974 yearbook. This serious look was atypical
This was a typical Tom look.
Because of Tom, I was transformed from this…
…to this. And in 1974, this was a great look. Really!
I began my junior year with my new do, and it became quite the sensation. I found friends and became increasingly well known, and even a little notorious (which I cherished).
Tom’s younger sister, Lesa, was a year behind me, and we were on some school committee together. One day, I rode my bike to her house for a committee meeting. The home was new to me, as just a few months previous the Payne’s had lived in another house, and a few months previous yet a different house. It was rumored that Mrs. Payne was struggling to keep her family afloat, and the family would decamp in the middle of the night to a new place, skipping the rent on the previous house. I was unaware of a Mr. Payne.
These stories seemed extraordinary to me as Tom and Lesa were always beautifully dressed, and Lesa was as friendly and outgoing as her brother. Could their home lives really be fraught with such tensions? But what else would account for so many frequent moves?
The months passed and one day a shocking story swept the school: Tom had brain cancer. His sudden absence from school seemed to confirm this.
This news seemed impossible. Tom was so vital, so God-like. He could not possibly be struck down.
But weeks and weeks passed, weeks without Tom. People whispered: Tom is dying.
One day, I rode my bike to Lesa’s house. Once there, we were to be picked up by a classmate with a car for another committee meeting. Arriving at the house, new again to me, I stepped inside the foyer. Lesa excused herself to grab something, leaving me alone. All I could think think of was: Is Tom home? Is Tom home? Is Tom home?
Then I heard: “Hi!”
I looked up the staircase. At the top landing was Tom. He was wearing a robe, and his head was swathed in bright white bandages. He looked great; not at all ill. He was beaming with pleasure.
“Wow! I can’t believe you came to see me! Come on upstairs!”
I was horrified. Tom thought I had come to see him. I was also startled. Tom was glad that I had come to see him! I then had a weird thought: My mane of hair was once Tom’s mane of hair. Then another thought, well, more a feeling: I felt a desperate urge to race up the stairs. I felt desperate to give Tom a long, intense hug. Even more shocking, I wanted to whisper to Tom: I love you.
This last feeling had nothing to do with my being in love with Tom. The feeling was akin to holding on tightly to your cat or dog, mashing your head in their fur, and saying: I love you.
All these thoughts and feelings happened in a split second. Then Lesa stepped back into the foyer. “Oh, hi, Tom. Do you know Ross?” Tom nodded. “Oh. Well, we’re off,” she said while tugging on my arm.
I had never in my life wanted anything more than to not leave with Lesa. Rather, I ached to race up the stairs to Tom. I wanted to learn about him, to see his room, and listen to his stories.
“Come on,” Lesa repeated, tugging more on my arm.
And as I inched in her direction, I watched as Tom’s face totally changed. The huge, excited smile collapsed. His whole face now revealed…pain. My heart felt pierced with horror while I watched, like a movie in slow-motion, as the pain shifted to sadness. Then loneliness.
“Come on!” Lesa commanded, pulling me away. And me, at seventeen, had not yet learned to assert myself. So, I turned my face to Tom, and tried to telepathically convey that I wanted to stay.
Tom offered a gentle wave goodby.
I never saw Tom again.
His death was expected but nonetheless shocking. In the 1970s, students had little to no experience with youthful death.
In my senior year, I was the editor of the yearbook, and President of the drama club. I was perceived as popular but every day was still a struggle for me. More than a decade would pass before the stomach-punching feelings of insecurity and fear would ebb. As time would prove however, these feelings would never entirely dissipate.
I graduated in 1975 with my mane of shagged hair, a gift from Tom Payne, intact.
A few months later, I ran into Gary from the Together salon. He soon became my first boyfriend, a belated gift from Tom, and I would delight in Gary’s stores about Tom. Gary, like everybody, adored him.
Many years would pass before I became curious about Tom’s mother, whom I never met. What was her life like? How, under what was obviously a great struggle, did she manage to raise such fabulous children? I vaguely recall that she had six children. Could that be correct?
Memory is a peculiar thing.
Old memories can arrive unbidden after decades and yet still seem fresh and alive.
Today, I was sanding a basement window at the Cross House when Tom Payne reentered my mind. I had not thought about Tom in many years. Tom would be sixty-two now but he is, of course, eternally young in my mind. What would his life have been like, I wondered?
Our last meeting was as clear today as it was forty-four years ago. And the look on his face when he realized that I was not there to see him stabs my heart with no less pain today.
Then I had a thought. Was Tom still, ah, out there…somewhere? Could Tom receive a message from me?
I closed my eyes.
I am again standing in his foyer. Lesa comes in and says: “Come on. We need to go:”
Smiling at Lesa, I say: “Tom asked that I stay and talk with him. Would that be OK?”
Lesa looks up at her brother, and replies: “Of course. Of course.” She gently touches my shoulder.
As she departs, I ascend the stairs. Tom looks happy I am now before him. Then I shock myself by hugging him. Intensely.
With my arms tight around this mortally ill creature, I whisper: “I love you.”
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Tears. Tom was a good guy…thank you for telling this story. Love you, Ross.
Sue!!!!!!!! How fabulous to read your comment.
[Note to other readers: Sue and I went to high school together.]
I am soooooooo glad that you, too, remember Tom.
BIG hug! MUCH love!
I believe we can do that, Ross, and that somewhere in this vast universe none of us truly understand, Tom is aware that you did go back, even though late. This was a beautiful thing to do
Thank you, Mo.
I believe, too, Mo. Sending you a virtual hug, Ross.
What a touching story….thank you for guiding me to it, in its entirety, Ross.
~Dennis a.k.a. TampaDink
Jesus, Ross – this is beautiful. Thank you for sharing. Big hugs to you.
Beautifully written Ross. I wonder if John McCain’s passing from brain cancer brought this memory to you. I did not usually agree with his politics, but he was a noble, decent and inclusive human being. Something we need more of especially now. We lost two great Americans this week, John McCain and Aretha
You brought about a beautiful resolution in this piece. I very much enjoy your writing.
I think these experiences are a necessary evil. They serve as a reminder for the next Toms we meet. Not to take people, feelings or relationships for granted.
Thank you for sharing. Proof that we are all immortal.
A beautiful story. Tom must have been a beautiful soul, for you to remember him all these years later. Hugs to you, and I’m sending a hug somewhere in the universe to Tom – and much love to you both.
Jeez Ross, that was beautiful. I’m tearing up and that rarely happens. I too had someone like that in high school..although they never passed, It was just an opportunity when I saw them unhappy/unwell, and when I could’ve been there…I was torn away. Those memories can leave for long periods of time, then they reappear…hauntingly, yet peacefully, just to revisit that moment in time, almost like the person is reaching out.
Poignant & ; beautiful story!
Item seemed so happy to see someone in your story & made me think he may not have had many to see just him— maybe not— but so happy & brightened to see you in the midst of being so sick. Being ill & dying from such a tragic illneas at such a youn age was not uncommon in the 70’’s.
Many childhood cancers are curable now —that then were not. The reason I did not go into Peds as a young nurse, was because one of my young patients died of leukemia:within a week. His family were in my social circle.
Heartbreaking not to see him again & then all those yeats later—in a solitary endeavor—your mind wondered to that beautiful person.
I believe Tom’s like a angel in your midst & pleased that he was on your heart.
It makes me smile to think of that…..
Yes & hugs to you and a hug tossed out there & up to the heavens to Tom — a wonderful soul!
Your writing is wonderful. Such a sad moment, but perhaps you could locate Lesa and learn more of Tom.
I think we all have memories rush back when we are doing solitary work.
A big virtual hug to you and Tom.
Oh, my oldest sister graduated in 1975 and yes, your hair was fitting for the time.
Yes, I agree with Dan. Why not contact Lesa. I don’t want the story to end.
Yes! Contact Lesa & keep us informed….
Ross, that’s a touching story, Tom sounds like he was a great guy. He had an impact on your life, which gave you confidence, which in turn helped you to come out of your shell. Wherever he is, I think he knows how you felt that day back in high school. Contacting Lesa is a good idea, you may get some of your old questions answered. The 1974 haircut rocks.
You made me weep.
Oh, how I miss you; the wonderful, interesting, funny, intelligent guy I remember from SPHS. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for sharing this story/memory with us. YOU are one of the most unique people I have ever had the fortune to call friend. 🙂
Love,
Patty
Sweet….
and love the hair!
I think we all have regrets like yours…but as someone else said, hopefully we learn something and then don’t miss similar opportunities in the future. My grandpa loaned me $2000 to buy my first car, and I was to pay him back $100 per month. I had saved what I thought was a lot, but he wanted me to have a nicer car than what my $1500 would buy in 1984. It was a 1979 Camaro, and I was so excited the day we bought it; I took it home, washed and waxed it, and was getting ready to go “cruise town” with my buddies when my grandpa came out and said, “Let’s take it for a spin”. I explained that I was running late to pick up a friend, and promised him that we would go for a drive the coming weekend; he died of a heart attack the next morning, and his funeral was on Sunday afternoon. That was nearly 34 years ago, and I am trying not to cry as I type this. Maybe these mistakes and regrets make us a better person, I don’t know…
Hi Ross. Gosh, what a beautiful and poignant posting. I also had a friend who died whilst we in high school. We’d fallen out months before (I have no memory of quite why!); so reading this story brought it all back. Sending hugs and good wishes from Dubai.
PS Growing up in the mid 70s I always longed for hair like you all had, but my dad insisted on a traditional short back and sides as he called it! Damn!
Colin
Hi, Colin!
I have not read this post since I published it last year.
Golly, I cried so hard while re-reading it!
And…all my hair is long gone!
Hi Ross,
I wish I’d found this post years sooner. I was best friends with Tom’s oldest sister, Linda, and also with the other sister DeeDee. That was when we were in junior hi and for the first 2 years of high school. I went to Northeast and we drifted apart. I spend a lot of time at their house, a house owned and lived in by their grandpa. He added a huge family room and some small bedrooms onto the old house. Some of my best memories back then were of the times I spent at their house. The last time I saw Linda was May of 1974. Tom was either in the hospital or gone. Linda told me she went there daily to be with him. I asked where everyone was, since no one else was home, at her grandfather’s old house. She told me her mom had remarried and everyone else was living at the home of the new husband. I never heard the stories of them house hopping but I had lost contact for a few years.
Two stories about Tom. Once Linda came over to my house to spend the night. She had a black eye! I asked what happened and she said she and Tom had a fight and he punched her!!! Another time Linda came to my house to borrow an outfit for a date. We swapped clothes all the time. She took off her jeans to try on a pair of my slacks and she was wearing mens’ Jockey type shorts. I laughed and asked her who they belonged to. They were Tom’s. She hadn’t done her laundry so stole a pair of his underwear to wear.
I learned about 17 years ago that Linda died in her thirties of cancer. Their father died young of cancer, I think it was brain cancer. They had a bad genetic curse. And they were all just as lovely inside an out as they could be.
I have wondered about what happened to all of them later in life. And I know that feeling of regret you have. I have it too. Why didn’t I write to Linda and Dee after I moved out West? Why did I let people I liked so much drift out of my life?
Btw. You were always handsome. Your bad haircut doesn’t look bad to me and you look amazing. What you wrote is so moving and beautiful.
I hope you get this. I have been curious about what happened to Lesa. Are you on faecbook?
Hi, Vicki. Very nice to meet you.
You knew family members that I didn’t. So, it’s interesting learning more about the family.
I posted this 7 years ago and it seems odd that no one from the Payne family has ever reached out.
It is odd. I did try to reconnect with Dee, sent her a text message, and got no reply. I think maybe it’s too painful or something to think of someone from the past wanting to know about things they’d rather not talk about, even though I made it clear that we did not have to talk/text about any of that. But I’m guessing.
Their mother, Jean, was very nice. I met them when I was 13, an age where you don’t really know how to treat people who are experiencing trauma. Their dad died young, about 3 or 4 years before I met them. Their mom remarried soonish afterwards because they had a half sister named Sandy who was 2 at the time I met Linda. That marriage did not last long and the husband worked half the year up north teaching skiing. Then in the summer he was in St Pete teaching water skiing. I met him once and he seemed very nice but was a lot older than Jean.
Whenever I spent the night, the rest of the family disappeared. I never thought about it at the time. Where did they go? I don’t know. They did have relatives in the area but not in St Pete. so maybe they spent time there. I didn’t know Tom at all, but he and Linda looked alike. I interacted a bit with little Sandy but everyone else either stayed in their rooms or went somewhere else when I spent the night there. There was no family gathered around the tv type of thing. And they didn’t seem to eat dinner. I only recall one dinner there with some of the family. There was never much food in the house at all. I didn’t think about that at the time, but I recalled it many years later. Like you said, everyone was well dressed. I’m sure Jean spent the SS money she got for the kids on the kids. Also they were part Native American, enough so that Linda got assistance with college expenses.
Do you know what happened to Lesa after high school? I recall her as a little girl, maybe 8 or so when I was spending time at their house.
They were wonderful people. Smart, attractive, kind and caring people. I think they got that from their mom. She was much nicer than my mother. Like you, I did not come from a very good family. But to Linda it looked good because I had a dad.
It’s a haunted feeling, looking back at people gone too soon who left an indelible mark. I wish I’d tried harder to keep in touch but it didn’t happen. So now I’m at the age of regrets. I’ve had dreams with Linda in them. I think what haunts me is the fact of her dying so young, though older than Tom by a number of years. That family endured too many tragic losses. Looking back now and understanding emotional trauma, I think they, as a family and individually, were trying to survive a terrible loss, of their father/husband and just hanging on as best they could. I suspect no one ever talked about that loss.
Hi there. Lesa is now Lesa Ketcherside and lives in NY. She married her vocal coach. They have an employment business together. I went to meadowlawn with Lesa and we were great friends. I connected with her several years back and at that time it was just her and Dee left that were fully related and then her little sister.
Thank you so much for sharing this story about my Uncle Tom Payne. He passed away from brain cancer before I was born, and I’m named after him, so reading this meant a great deal to me. It helped me learn more about an uncle I never had the chance to meet, and it was very meaningful to see his life and impact captured this way.
My Aunt Linda also passed away from breast cancer in her early 30s, but she left behind two wonderful kids who both still live in St. Pete today. Between the two of them and their spouses, they have seven incredible kids. Linda’s husband, Bob, later married an amazing woman who helped raise my cousins, and our family has always been grateful for her love and presence.
Sadly, my Aunt Lesa passed away a few years ago in New York, but my mother, Dee, and my Aunt Sandy are both in good health and doing very well. We all knew growing up that my mom’s family faced real challenges with health issues and finances, but the happy ending is that our family is doing well today. Many of us still live in St. Pete, we remain close, and those relationships mean everything.
Recently, my daughter, who is a junior at SPHS, and I toured the school’s museum on the second floor. By chance, I came across an old Palmetto and Pine with my Aunt Linda on the cover. It’s very cool to see a new side to your own family that was previously unknown.
Thanks to everyone who commented and shared stories. It sparked a lot of great conversations with my family, and it was truly fun and meaningful to reflect together.
I’m glad Dee is healthy and I hope she is happy. Whenever I stayed over Dee and Linda and I were a trio. I admired them both so much. They were both beautiful inside and out. I loved staying over at their grandpa’s house. So many good times. So many stories to tell. Like the time Tom gave Linda a black eye over something. And lots of just fun teenaged stuff. Dee and I once set off to toilet paper some boy’s house, riding the bikes of the younger kids. A very good looking young cop stopped us before we could get to the house. We had rolls of toilet paper on the handle bars. A tad suspicious. So he followed us back to the old house where Linda was asleep in a chair where she’d been watching tv. Her hair was in curlers and she woke when we came in with the young cop. She was furious with me and Dee. She did not like being seen in curlers etc when a young man was there. Those memories are ones I cherish from my teen years. I think my happiest times as a teen were with Linda and Dee.
Please tell me what happened to Lesa. Were were great friends at meadowlawn jr high. We had lunch together in st pete a few years back and then she redid my resume because that is what she did. I have been looking for her. Im so sad at this news.
Ross,
It was wonderful to read about my Uncle Tom in your article. I’m so glad people still think about him — it truly keeps his memory alive.
You wouldn’t remember seeing my grandpa around because he passed away from a brain tumor (like Tom) many years before you met Tom, when the four oldest kids were still very young. There were five children in total: the oldest was my mom, Linda, followed by Dee, Tom, Lesa, and then — several years later, after my grandma remarried — Sandy.
As my cousin Tom mentioned above, my mom (Linda) passed away in her early 30s, when my younger brother and I were still very young. She and my dad were St. Pete High School sweethearts. I love meeting people who knew her and tell me how much I look like her. My dad remarried a wonderful woman about 10 years later. I have four kids, and my brother has three, and we are all still in St. Pete.
Dee is still in St. Pete as well and had two children — my cousin Tom (named after Uncle Tom) and his sister. They both stayed local and have many kids between the two of them as well.
Lesa ended up moving to New York, and we loved visiting her — and she loved visiting us! When all of us nieces and nephews were young, Aunt Lesa would come down to visit and we’d have “Aunt Lesa parties” with balloons, treats, and the whole nine yards. She was the best. She never had children, so I think she claimed the six of us nieces and nephews as her own. Sadly, as Tom mentioned, she passed away a few years ago. We miss her greatly — she reminded me so much of my mom and had such a beautiful voice.
Sandy has two children who have moved away, but we stay in close touch and they come back to visit often. One has two handsome boys, and the other just got married. We are all very close.
I love that picture of Uncle Tom. My cousin Tom, my brother, my cousin Sean, and my son all take after him with their olive skin, dark hair, and dark eyes — honestly, most of us do!
One story I especially love about Uncle Tom is how he saved my mom’s life in high school. The two of them were hit by a drunk driver, and the car burst into flames. My mom was trapped inside, and Uncle Tom burned his hands breaking the door open and pulling her out. She suffered severe burns but survived because of him. I guess I owe him my life as well. My Aunt Dee later gave me the newspaper clipping she saved from that accident.
Thank you so much for remembering my Uncle Tom and for sharing your memories. I loved reading all the comments as well. ❤️
Erin, I remember the fire. Lesa was so upset because she was supposed to go with them and they took off without her. She would have been in the back seat. It really affected her. She was really upset at the hospital when she saw Linda.
I wanted to find out about her passing. Im so sad to hear this news. We spent a lot of time riding bikes and being in the 8th grade chorus. Our chorus teacher (Cindy Burrows) would take us to different places. Concerts or to get pizza. We had a blast. One time this older man was making us laugh so much we had to go outside of the restaurant. Cindy got so mad at us and we laughed even harder. Once when I spent the night Lesa was flippin Sandy up in the air with her feet. Sandy was 5. They were doing all kind of tricks. I loved her grandpas house and that big room he added on. I remember see her grandpa taking his naps in the afternoon. I went to Northeast so we didnt see eachother very often. We had a mutual friend that died scuba diving and sw eachother at he funeral. We got together yeas later to have lunch in st pete. It had to be one of her Aunt Lesa visits and i just happened to be there at the same time. We talked for a few hours and I learned about her mom and Linda and her experience with 9/11. I have tried to find that old house from time to time when I go down to Florida but I could never remember which one it was. I have thought of this whole family often.
I love hearing these old stories. I’m sorry that you had to find out about Lesa online. I think it was 2017 that she passed away. I friend requested you on Facebook for private communication.
Im under Vin Thomas
I was best friends with Linda in 8th and 9th grade and saw her often in 10th and 11th grade even though I went to NEHI. I loved that big family room too. I had such fun with Limda and Dee. What happened to their mom? I always thought she was a very nice lady.
Vicki, I loved reading your memories!
Last I checked the old house is still there! Although it’s not in our family anymore. Our grandma Jean still lived there while us grandkids were growing up and we were there all the time. We had so much fun in that house. It’s just south of Kiwanis park off of 275.
Jean ended up passing away from breast cancer just like my mom.
I would like to share what a Linda wrote in my 9th grade annual sometime. It’s kind of long but shows what she was like at the time. We, Linda, Dee and maybe another friend or two used to sign things to each other, and maybe we said it to each other: LYLAS which stood for love you like a sister. We had lots of sleep overs and swapped clothes often. She was a joyful person and made those personally difficult years for me so much better. Her grandfather’s house was a haven for me. I hope she felt the same way about staying over at my house. I moved out West in 1974 and saw her before I left but we had drifted apart and didn’t stay in touch. I tried to renew contact on Classmates.com and found out she was gone. My heart broke for her and you and your brother because I know how much she would have loved you and how it must have devastated her not to be there to raise you. I’d like to copy the message she wrote in my annual to give to you and your brother so you can have it in her handwriting. I am not sure how to do it. I have thought about her and Dee a lot in the past few years. It’s an aging thing I’m sure.
Aww, that’s amazing! I would love to have a copy or picture. Do you have Facebook? You can send a picture through messenger
I’m under Erin Hendry Williams
I’m trying to think back and I believe Grandma Jean passed away in the late 90’s. She was incredibly sweet and loved animals. I think the only time I ever saw her get mad was when my brother nailed her in the head with a rock – and rightfully so! 😬 (she was ok btw)
I am on facebook. I will figure out how to do it. Might take a few days. lol
I never saw your grandmother get mad either. She was so kind and loving. Once she took Linda and I to McDonalds for dinner and a friend of Jean’s joined us. The whole purpose for the dinner was to make Linda realize that her eyes were beautiful, which they were. She had some kind of purple thing on the cornea of one eye that made her self-conscious and Jean set up the dinner for us to all tell her her eyes were beautiful. Such kindness. I did not have that with my mom so some of those occasions stick out. At one point she was smoking cigarettes, something I don’t think she kept up. We stole a couple from her purse once. Don’t know if we actually smoked them or not. A rare event for you mom to do something naughty.