The Ode Less Taken

Happy birthday, Albert. I meant to post this for you by midnight last night.

I had intended, as you know, to write you an ode.

I think I need to cut the ode thing short. I did the one for Joe, and that was delightful, and then I started doing odes, and suddenly it became pressure.

And as you know, I have been taking notes for quite awhile for the sole the purpose of creating your ode. Gathering memories. Mostly of in-jokes. You and I have laughed together more than some people ever get to laugh. Some bad moments that became hilarious after the fact. A few just plain awful moments.

I’m not going to use them.

You and I met when you were a 19 year old art kid and I was a recently broken and newly strengthening 24 year old. And at those ages, the five year split was substantial. We met at a job in the mall. And I honestly don’t remember much about how we became friends outside of work. I have a memory of our being on the telephone, and it being awkward, but doing it anyway.

But at some point you had turned into my very best friend. And I want to thank you for that.

You have been through absolutely all of it with me. You know every mistake I’ve made. You know all the secrets. I know all of yours.

You found my way for me into this career I am in. I don’t think I would have found my own way into anything as solid.

To say you have supported me sounds so trite. Especially because there have been times when you have flat out held me up.

The last few years, you have moved across the country and immersed yourself in a world that, for the first time, I am not a part of. I have lost touch with what kind of day-to-day life you live. We speak less frequently than we have in years.

But we are no less friends, and we know this.

I am particularly happy that you were here, just last week, before I wrote this. Seeing you is always a pleasure. But I was struck this time, really struck, by how well you seem.

And upon a bit of reflection, seeing this in you had me question how I seem to you. And despite all my shaky emotions and lost-in-the-woods descriptors, I have to say that the two of us really feel solid. in who we are. in what we want. I was more comfortable with you, looser, (that is more loose, not loser), than I ever recall being in all these years.

I’ve said it before, and I stick to my story… you are the finest man I could know. I could not be prouder (you know how much I hate that word in this context) of your character and of the choices you have made and of the amount of work and determination you have put towards achieving your goals; both academically/professionally, and personally. Okay maybe I don’t hate the word. Because I do feel so proud of you.

We have watched each other grow and change. We have witnessed the train wrecks. We have cheered on the successes.

And I consider myself lucky to have you as my friend.

I hope you had a happy birthday.

(sigh. okay… remember that time we watched Apollo 13 and I was all confused as it was wrapping up because I thought that the ending was that they all died?)

(and remember that time you were joking around and said you were calling me from Heathrow Airport and I never knew you were just kidding until you’d been “gone” for days?)

(remember the police chase and gunfire inside the Lincoln Tunnel?)

(remember that time you fell in love with my other best friend and we eventually all went to war?)

(remember that time I made some kind of joke about a popsicle stick and a pap smear and we were laughing so hard you had to pull over?)

(remember that time you flew home to surprise me by being at my 40th birthday party?)

(yeah. good times.)