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On to the post…
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I’m stuck behind a left lane bandit
Oh yeah, you know the one…
He’s crawling down the freeway interfering with my fun.
I can’t believe his driving, what’s the deal with this lame guy?
So I look into his window and can see he’s from Shanghai.
I swerve back to the right lane and begin to ride your tail.
While continuing to check my phone and read routine email.
I fire tweets off quickly as my foot slams on the gas.
Inching closer to your bumper now – I refuse to make the pass!
But my exit is approaching, so I roll right into work.
Talking loudly on my speakerphone (to ignore colleagues like Dirk).
I duck into my office and quickly hide behind my desk.
The people all around me here? Quite literally grotesque.
Loud drama queens and girly men that’s what this place is now.
A team of brainless Oprah fans who try to act highbrow.
I’m exhausted by their worries all about their lot in life.
Except Latina file clerk girl – could she be my next ex-wife?
This place has grown so nutty, I just don’t know what to do.
Coworkers who surround me, all they do is misconstrue.
Their problematic thinking – far too often led astray.
So easy to convince them boogeyman is on his way.
At least we’re in this building now (not on my couch with Zoom).
Long-ass meetings full of panic that we face impending doom.
My colleagues feel so foreign, I no longer can relate.
What’s wrong with modern interns now – I can’t even get one date?
All I said was shove that Pfizer shot…well, where the sun don’t shine.
And then just yelled, “FUCK VACCINE TALK” (ok, that didn’t make Juanita mine).
No injection in my body when unsure what it’s about.
Unless they can invent one that will make 6-packs pop out.
I won’t care what’s in a needle if it gives me sexy abs.
Or one that might relive me from this stubborn case of crabs.
The sheeple all around me here think I’m a problem child.
Well, they’re the microchipped ones – with blood data now profiled.
I bet they’ll try to bribe me, thinking I will get their shot.
10 steps ahead is where I live, they must have all forgot.
Yup, Dirk just ordered Pizza Hut – all part of his game plan.
You need more than awesome food to pull one over on me, man.
Can you spot the simple tricks like theirs? As obvious can be.
My views will never change. They’re built on logic only I can see.
In fact, I truly think it’s healthy washing slices down with Coke.
And casually ignore signs telling me where I can’t smoke.
While you all get so brainwashed, I am free as I can be.
My thoughts are mine alone. And need only make sense to me.
Things that enter this round body, yeah I always analyze.
Could tell you each ingredient in Little Debbie pies.
That might be a stretch to say (I never really look).
I tend to eat most everything from any kind of cook.
I’m a grown-ass man with freedom, that’s what life is all about.
These people won’t impact me – oh hell no, I won’t sell out.
Nice, it’s time to close up shop here so I’ll chill out back at home.
With construction now completed on my brand new biodome.
I’ll have distance from the noise there, from vaccines I’ll never take.
Far away from all the people who created this headache.
No, you’ll never understand me, but I’m still a real-life guy.
Hey guys, I appreciate the overwhelming support. Just wanted to get an idea of whether the post-retirement posts are worth continuing and the answer was made very clear.
I’ll be honest…a few of the responses were incredibly touching. I had some people talking about how they read the posts aloud to their wives at night, others forward stuff to their kids, and on and on. One friendly dude even offered to pay me to continue. Again, such nice emails. I was just asking whether it matters to you. Thank you so much for answering.
Believe me, I’m well aware that I’m not curing cancer here. I’ll happily continue once a month as long as there’s room in my life to do that. Let’s move on. Just a few administrative notes before the July post…
If you follow MileNerd by email, that service stops working this month. I put up a new link (from a new email service) on the right sidebar of MileNerd.com. You should be able to subscribe to it starting today. I’m not a techie at all…if there are issues with this new provider, I’ll try to have that fixed next month. But, again, no more MileNerd emails unless you resubscribe through the new link.
A couple of you requested a miles and points post. I might stick one in at some point. But I’m very retired from blogging about that hobby. These posts are just to stay connected to you old friends each month.
On that note, I’m probably done updating the credit card list at this point. The edits have been very sporadic for 2 years. Not sure there’s any point in it. Again…no longer a miles and points blogger.
A few of you mentioned how I didn’t reply 2 years ago about membership in a group. I apologize. Was slammed with emails and eventually stopped answering them. Anyway, the original idea changed. If you are still interested in a very small work-focused team (essentially a part-time job hunting for deals) let me know and we can talk.
Finally, the initial plan with my monthly post-retirement entries was to mix it up. Meaning, sometimes just posting a meaningful picture and caption from a trip…and the next month maybe just writing a review of my favorite pizza slice. Over the last 2 years, these all turned into longer posts. Hey, I dig them too. But, going forward, it’s possible I might mix things up more. The idea is to post something each month. What it will be may vary.
That said, I was motivated this month. Your avalanche of emails touched me. So I’m going to share a story I once briefly mentioned. You get a better, fuller version today. It’s a winding tale from my past. Hope you enjoy…
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School Daze
Can you still remember your first day of high school?
That feeling in the pit of your belly?
The bell rang. I entered the 10th grade ring (I mean, room) very cautiously. That’s the way to do it when you’re part boy, part string bean. Sure, my dream of being a ladies man was unrealistic. But there was plenty else I could do. Like claim my rightful throne as the king of awkwardness. Looking around at all the grown-up faces, it seemed to be the right time to start dating. Unfortunately, big obstacles were in my path. Including:
A flip side to my fancy new contact lenses – no more thick glasses to hide the schnoz.
This unimpressive physique. Best described as “friendly neighborhood crackhead.”
My weirdness factor. Basically, complete and total ignorance on how to be cool. There were Luke Perry sexy whisper guys everywhere…and then there was me. Armed with a loud voice and this peach fuzz moustache, I appeared destined to be cast as “spazzy guy in the back row.”
So that’s where I sat. And, as the cranky teacher started to take roll, I waited nervously. All I had to do was say “here” but there was a 99% chance my voice would crack while doing it. What was my deal? I looked down at the Guess jeans my mom purchased for the first day of class and immediately shook my head. Already got clowned today for forgetting to cut off the price tag before walking into the building. Dammit.
Cranky teacher neared the end of the list. It was almost voice-cracking time. And then…out of nowhere…
What in the world was this?
Someone named Kelley responded to her name being called. I’d seen all the other pretty girls in town but this was…different. She tossed her hair aside and giggled at nothing in particular. Honestly, it felt like fairy dust was raining down on the room. Did this girl jump straight out of a high school movie montage? What THE HELL was happening here?
My jaw was still on the floor as a pimple-faced kid tapped my shoulder.
Apparently, cranky teacher was calling my name…
Ok, NOT the time for nervousness. Man up, dummy. Gotta make a good first impression on Kelley. As soon as cranky teacher called my name again, I interrupted with…
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Guess it’s because most people call me Studman.”
Let me tell you…
As 10th grade goes, that’s pretty much the highest level of comedy one can reach. The room exploded with laughter and I even got a few high-fives. For the next 3 years, there were kids who would permanently refer to me as Studman. I even signed it that way on my Blockbuster Video card.
When the bell rang, I found myself standing next to the giggling, hair-tossing goddess herself. The first day of school in a new town and she didn’t have a single ounce of nervousness. How could this be? I felt a panic attack starting up simply because she was looking at me. Then she smiled (so warmly it could have melted ice) and said…
“You’re funny.”
High school was off to an amazing start.
Juniors
By 11th grade, Kelley and I were close buddies.
She (of course) was dating the captain of the football team.
I, on the other hand, enjoyed jam-packed weekends full of video games and Pop Tarts.
As the lord of awkwardness, I’d found my rightful place in the pecking order – as a funny yet sensitive pod person. I drove her to school each morning. We talked about everything (well, almost). I could never express what was in my heart. But, obviously, I was crazy about this person who sat mere inches away. I imagine she just thought of those 15-minute drives as transportation…but they were always the highlight of my day.
Seniors
By 12th grade, I was essentially her gay best friend.
Thrilling? Of course. Daily torture? That too.
It was normal to pick up the phone and hear Kelley mid-laugh anticipating what I might say. She was fun, quirky, and extremely kind. The girl didn’t have a mean bone in her body. More than anyone at school, she really cared about what was happening with me. It mattered to her. And, of course, I listened intently during our nightly calls as she shared everything from her life.
Being the shoulder-to-cry-on guy felt like an honor in one sense…but I could be so much more. With me, there wouldn’t be any reason to cry at all. How on earth did anyone express such things? I might as well attempt something easier…like climbing Mount Everest.
I remember one of the last days we drove to school together. She wore a new white dress. It was the first moment a girl actually took my breath away. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked. She never wore clothes like that but we had a bunch of pre-graduation ceremonies to attend. My voice got weirdly loud and I blurted out, “Hey maybe we could share a dance together at prom before the end of the night…y’know if we have time or whatever.” As always, she was fully and enthusiastically up for anything I ever suggested.
(I just couldn’t express what I really wanted to)
Early College
After graduation, Kelley headed north to Indiana. A few states away. The opposite sex was (finally) more of a presence in my life, but she remained at the forefront of my thoughts. I received her postcards and letters regularly. Obviously, dropping everything for the scattered weekends she drove down to visit.
Maybe it was my growing confidence…or possibly the hypnotic mix of music and beer…but our time together seemed to have a different magic now. No longer just a spazzy pod person daydreaming about the impossible. These moments seemed special for both of us. Was that in my imagination? Had I ventured into arrogance? Because I could have sworn she was waiting for me to say or do something. But, come on. Please. Who am I supposed to be…Jean-Claude Van Damme?
We just soaked up all we could from those special weekends and returned to our normal college lives.
Late College
When Michael Jordan un-retired from baseball, I mapped out a road trip to Chicago with some friends. Had to see that guy play in person. Driving to the Windy City came with a special bonus. Passing through Indiana. I asked Kelley if she was interested in joining our adventure. She screamed in delight before I could finish the sentence.
We arrived in Chicago so poor that we couldn’t actually afford tickets. At least not the normal way. I walked up to a scary-looking scalper on the street and handed him a few bucks. Please, sir. Anything that gets us inside. With his tattooed hand, he shoved an envelope into my chest and waved me away.
Thank you, serial killer guy! YES!
We had our seats. Well, kind of. They were technically passes to line up in the “standing room” zone behind the last row. But nobody in the United Center had more fun that night. We sat there (actually, stood there) watching the greatest player in history do his thing. Wow. What kind of brass balls are on this dude to lay it all out there each and every night?
It then occurred to me that I might be the exact opposite of MJ. Someone who never puts himself out there. As we left the arena…eating, drinking, and laughing our way through Chicago…I grew frustrated with myself. What the hell was my problem? Why couldn’t I just open up my heart? Anyway, it was getting late. We couldn’t afford luxury so we all crashed in the same small hotel room. Kelley and I had to share one of the beds. We talked deep into the night. At one point, she looked softly into my eyes and then…I immediately rolled over.
As I drifted away, an important question lingered in my mind…
Am I the Michael Jordan of cowardice?
Post-College
We still spoke almost every day, but Kelley had been dating someone. It was serious. Just never expected to get a call that she’d be marrying him.
(Well done, king of awkwardness. You officially blew it)
Turns out the marriage was a bust from the start. A product of youth more than anything. Now a tough situation. As the months went by, Kelley seemed increasingly fragile. In spite of it, she was full of warmth on our phone calls. I really started to understand how important our friendship was. And not just to me. One particular day, it came pouring out of her. She said:
“I know you have lots of friends but honestly you’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had. You’ve been there for me through everything. You know every single thing about me, good and bad. And what amazes me the most is you don’t judge me. You know all the bad things I’ve done and still, amazingly, associate with me. Honestly, how do you put up with me?”
As a modern-day Shakespeare, I replied with: “Well I do a lot of drugs, so…”
The reality is, I had no clue what the hell she was talking about. She never did anything “bad.” That girl was so kind to everyone. For the first time, her sunny personality was dimming. She was clearly in pain. After another few months, she explained that her marriage was ending. The toll was significant. I tried to be a good friend. With both of us living alone now, there were long daily phone calls. We talked about a million different subjects. Including regret. Both wondering what life might have been like if she hadn’t headed north for school. Clearly, I wanted to say something more. But Halley’s Comet would come around faster than my words. So, one day, she finally asked it herself:
“What do you think it would be like if we kissed? I’m just wondering…”
I can’t remember how I answered that question. It’s possible my head fell off my body and rolled into a freezer to hide. But I don’t know for sure…the rest of that conversation was a blur.
Over the next few months, Kelley grew increasingly sad. It was so far from her natural state. I tried to make her laugh. I tried to build her up. But she was just as concerned with my happiness as I was with hers. We were both a bit lost in the world. Those phone calls felt like a warm cup of soup in the middle of a storm. Her marriage was over now. Nothing left but paperwork. She desperately needed a weekend away. Something non-depressing to help her remember how to feel like herself. We discussed it for weeks and finally made plans to meet halfway.
It’s easy to forget how young we were. But I truly felt 10 years old driving into that random Kentucky town. We met at a local mini golf course. She’d lost weight. And (shockingly) seemed just as awkward as me. I didn’t even know that was possible. Never seen it from her in all these years. Oh, man. Maybe we should just grab a beer and talk? I asked mini golf guy for directions to the nearest local pub…but apparently this was a “dry county.” Wait. Let me get this straight…I live an entire life without knowing dry counties even exist…and NOW I’m in one??
Get it together, man. Just focus on Kelley. Your best friend needs you to be normal right now. But, really, all I had to do was look at her. I saw pain in her eyes where there used to be joy. So I did what was most familiar. I tried to make her laugh. Eventually, a few smiles came out…then some giggles…and the day actually turned fun again. We fell into our old rhythm. Talked for hours. By the time we headed back to the hotel, I’d almost forgotten about…oh, shit. Panic attack time. I stared out the window as she went into the bathroom to freshen up.
(Warning: What I’m about to say is likely the most pathetic thing your ears will ever hear)
It was a nuclear bomb of fear. My brain said, “We can’t do this!” But, actually, I don’t even know if THIS was going to happen. My thoughts went into hyperdrive – “Even though the marriage is over, there’s still paperwork to sign” and blah blah blah. The reality is that I freaked the fuck out. I’d been crazy about her since the 10th grade. And, within seconds, I convinced myself that I shouldn’t be there. So, while she was in the bathroom…
I grabbed my bag, went downstairs, got in my car, and left the state.
(Yes, you read that correctly)
We had car phones in those days. Mine rang as I got on the highway. Kelley asked where I was…because, well…it probably didn’t occur to her that I drove out of Kentucky while she was in the bathroom. Look, I could justify it in any number of strange ways. But the reality is that…once again…I took the easy way out. Not sure what I rambled about on that phone call. But I do know one thing – at no point did I just say, “I’m scared.”
Clearly, she was hurt. And this time it was because of me. I can’t imagine many people would forgive that kind of thing, but…man…she was gentle and understanding even in that moment. She actually thanked me for coming to see her.
As I drove down the winding highway, something finally made sense to me. I’m the most pathetic person alive. And the utter exhaustion of that realization (on top of the entire day) hit me like a ton of bricks. Because…an hour into my drive, I fell asleep at the wheel.
(Whether you believe this next part or not, I give you my word it’s the truth)
Right as I fell asleep…literally right then…I ran out of gas. And, yes, I know how that sounds. But it happened. For whatever reason, it jerked the car. Instead of driving off the side of that mountain highway…I snapped awake just as I drifted out of my lane.
Somehow, I was able to coast down the hill to the nearest exit…right into a gas station.
I have no explanation. No guide to help me make sense of it. But that’s what happened. My car should have driven off the side of that empty highway with me asleep at the wheel. There’s no logical reason it didn’t.
And also beyond all logic…Kelley still cared about me after that day.
Final Chapter
The years kept marching on as we entered our late 20s. A day rarely passed without hearing her voice. We laughed about everything – yes, including my Kentucky mad dash. We were as close as ever. Sharing the ups and downs from work, dating, and life. We were getting older now. Out of the blue one day, she said:
“I just want you to know how thankful I am to have you in my life. I’m so grateful for everything…and I don’t think I’ve told you that enough. You are always there to listen. I was thinking today about how many times I’ve called you crying over God knows what. I’m so sensitive I’ll cry over a hangnail. But no matter how trite my dilemma was, you always listened so intently and always made me feel better.
And it amazes me…even when I think I’m as happy as I can get…when I speak to you on the phone, I realize I’m twice as happy as I was before. As many changes as I’ve gone through in the past 5 years, you were my only constant. And I’m so happy to know you. Anyway, I just wanted to say that…”
Astonishingly, I started to express myself too. In a somewhat clunky/oafish way, of course. But I did say the words. And we met up again. A decade after claiming to be the Studman…I finally kissed her.
There was a hell of a buildup to that moment. And it was so meaningful for both of us. But if you think this is a story about two people ending up together, then you aren’t seeing the full picture yet. Let me explain…
We both wanted to express our affection for each other by then. Such a long time coming. But we weren’t kids anymore. The reality is…not every deep friendship is meant to turn romantic. We realized it quickly. And the bond stayed strong.
Another decade (and then some) has passed. I look back on all the people who helped me grow. And nobody from those years mattered more than Kelley. We long ago moved on to relationships with incredible people. But I think we helped each other get there. Her presence in those days helped me immensely in all the ones that have followed.
I haven’t heard her voice in years now. One of the last times was a day I couldn’t shake the feeling that I should check in. So I did. She’d married a sweetheart of a guy. And they just found out they were pregnant. Hadn’t even told their families yet. Such a major moment in her life and…for some reason…I knew to reach out. Both of us were thrilled to share one more special phone call together.
We all remain forever connected to our pasts. Sometimes, when we think back on the people who really mattered…we cut out all the bad parts. Or we try to make it something it wasn’t. The reality is that I had a great friend in my formative years. Sure, our friendship was messy and I was often hilariously immature. But I had someone in my corner. A person who thought I was awesome…even at a time when nobody other than my mom agreed.
I spent many hours of my youth wondering what else we could be. But that was never the point. The specialness was what we actually were. Looking back, I can see it so clearly. I had a real best friend. Someone who taught me how to open my heart to others…as well as to myself. I’m forever grateful. We don’t always understand the role someone will play in our lives. But, then again, maybe we’re not supposed to at the time.
It has now been 2.5 years since I retired MileNerd.
Crazy, right?
Obviously, I’ve written a post per month since then. A bunch of you guys didn’t want me to go away and, dammit, I dig you too. So this was my way of not disappearing completely. Writing a few post-retirement words on whatever subject leaps into my head each month.
That said…
I received an automated message about needing to switch the provider for all MileNerd email subscribers. And it got me thinking…
In the pre-retirement days, there was never any question about whether this blog was wanted. The 100+ emails from people each day made it pretty obvious. But those readers came for miles and points. And I’m curious if you guys are getting much out of this anymore. I’m not asking for extra pats on the back. I won’t ever need another person to tell me I was the best writer of the miles-and-points bloggers. Heard that enough over the years. Also, that’s basically like telling a sports car that he’s faster than a broken down Yugo. Thanks, but I know. What I’m unsure of is this…
Does it matter to you if I stop writing these monthly entries?
Honestly asking. I’m just trying to figure out if this is something I should continue doing. I never ask for feedback and obviously disabled the comment section from the start…but this one requires your input. Very simple. If you want me to continue these post-retirement entries, just drop a line. If it doesn’t matter either way, then don’t.
You can use my email address if you have it, the contact page on the blog, or the old MileNerdcontests AT gmail.com.
Look, I know it’s hard to get people to take any action (even for a one-sentence email). Certainly not my style to ask. But I need to get some feel for this answer. If the posts aren’t worth a 5-second email from enough people, then I can scale this back even more. I’ll have a better idea of the thought process next month. Thanks for any help you can provide.
(If you do subscribe by email, just know those alerts could be disabled by July so you may need to come to the website manually)
Do you remember what you were like as a young kid?
I think I know…
Hyperfocused on your career?
Gulping down coffee at recess just to deal with the daily weight of society?
Obsessively checking your investment portfolio between sit-ups in gym class?
Uh, probably not.
Look, I don’t know a thing about your childhood. Doubt it was all butterflies and rainbows (since that isn’t real life). But I’m guessing we had one important trait in common. Early on, I think we all had the capacity to play. Remember that? Once upon a time, such playfulness lived within us. Literally just hand us a bucket and some sand back then and watch what happens.
Now, let’s fast forward to today…
Without bias, look at the grownups you know. Your friends…family…coworkers…and, of course, you. It’s safe to say that adulthood is more…weighed down…right? Not exactly the same lightness of youth? Of course. Obviously, there are responsibilities. Clearly, the world is a mess. And, undoubtedly, people have hurt us along the way. But I’m just asking a simple question…
Do you still live your days with a sense of play?
(Note: I’m referring to the sober version of you. Pouring booze in a glass to loosen up is a whole different thing)
Don’t worry, my intention isn’t to judge. I’m honestly asking…
Assuming, of course, that we’re lucky enough to have no immediate health or financial crisis…where exactly did our old playfulness go? Did it just vanish into thin air?
Eagerness to play was the defining trait of how we walked through the world once upon a time.
So…what happened?
Recently, I took my first post-Covid trip. Jumped on a plane to an amazing $1000/night resort in Hawaii (booked with points, of course). I sat in my luxurious lounge chair smack dab in the middle of paradise. Watching person after person stroll by. And something became very clear…
Kids, for the most part, have a much bigger capacity for joy. It’s hard to deny and impossible to ignore. In fairness, the adults didn’t seem miserable. Their resting faces often grew less frowny, sometimes even neutral, and (gasp) occasionally broke out in smiles. But their appetite for play…even in the middle of a dream playground…was clearly more limited. Kind of a muffled, “grown up” version.
Right about now, some guy named JimBob from Tuscaloosa is reading these words and thinking: “Dude, I got older and had to start WORKING. That’s what happened to my playfulness.”
As is often the case with Jimbob, he has completely missed the point. While I didn’t know the people walking on that beach…I imagine some of them were not in the midst of a major life crisis. Clearly, most were on a fantastic vacation. And, yet, even in a perfect setting for it…far removed from the workplace…they just didn’t seem to have much of a sense of play left. Now, of course, there are always some exceptions…
Occasionally, a “grownup” walked by and grabbed my attention completely. No, not because of their choice of swimwear, JimBob. But because that person (whether male or female) had a different kind of energy. It was so glaringly obvious. They managed to hold onto something that most of their peers have lost.
And, right then, I realized it…
Having a sense of play isn’t a trait. It’s a skill. Young kids don’t need to develop it because they haven’t lost it yet. Whatever will diminish their playfulness…the stuff that will weigh them down as adults…hasn’t happened yet.
It’s different for us.
We have to WANT to keep our playfulness. It’s something we have to consciously choose.
Look, there’s no shortage of shit for us to be upset or stressed about. All legitimate stuff. But just look at the amount of money we spend each year to get away from it – from tv channels to streaming services…from seeing live music to downloading songs…from standup comedy to sporting events – we spend all that money to watch other adults play. In the hope that some of that feeling will rub off on us. Think of all the vacations you’ve taken to try to shake things up. Think back to all your best memories as an adult and remember what felt so good.
I know. There are a million things to be upset about today. And tomorrow. And for the next 10 years. But let’s talk crazy for a second…
What if we took a day to see if we still have it in us to be truly carefree and playful? Just one day to consciously try to play. All the stressful stuff will definitely be there tomorrow. Would it be so bad to check in and see if the little kid is still alive in you somewhere? Just a thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to test out today…
It’s a word that gets thrown around pretty loosely.
In ways that include a wide range of people.
From Facebook “pals” to the faces at work.
But what about true friends…
How many humans really understand you? Or even care to try?
How many do you fully let in?
What’s the number of people you could tell everything to…
Or depend on in your lowest moment?
If we’re being honest with ourselves…for most of us, the list is short.
So…
Just how valuable is a true friend?
I’m really asking.
If you sat down to answer that question with actual words…
What might you say?
Because no measuring device exists for such things.
We can’t walk into a store and hand over money in exchange for a deep and genuine friendship.
So…
What is it worth to you?
This week, I lost one of the few true friends I have. Or, I guess, had. And, lately, I’ve gotten more and more reminders of how precious it is to have a real buddy in this world.
I bumped into Clint a decade ago. Randomly. Hadn’t seen him in years. But I snuck over, plopped down on the chair next to him, and smacked him on the back. Hard. He responded with a smile so big…and a hug so welcoming…that I immediately felt like a moron for losing touch.
What was wrong with me? Well, I guess like people sometimes do…I just took a potentially great friendship for granted. Certainly wasn’t the first time.
We sat there for a while, eagerly catching up. Both pretty excited to see each other. But, as is often the case with men, the conversation didn’t stray beyond “regular” stuff. Y’know…the safe topics. Like jobs, relationships, and the latest in world events. A Batman sequel was in theaters and Manny Pacquiao was knocking opponents out in spectacular fashion. So we yammered on about that kind of crap. But it’s all just neanderthal for, “Hey man, I really missed seeing you.” Dudes don’t exactly look each other in the eyes and express gentle sentiments. We mutter that stuff in code.
Anyway…it was great to see the guy. As always, he seemed like the kind of person I could’ve been great friends with in another life. Or a less busy one. And, hey, maybe I’d run into him again in a few years.
Then, as we said goodbye, Clint invited me to a holiday party at his house that weekend.
Look, I always liked the dude. But I couldn’t even remember his wife’s name. A party at his house? Nah. I’m just not the type who knocks on someone’s door during the holiday season to hang out with a group of people I don’t know. But here’s the thing…Clint was that type. And, for a friendship to grow, someone has to be the person who initiates a first hangout. Otherwise, duds like me would just amass a collection of acquaintances forever.
So I went to the damn party. Begrudgingly.
And only because it was such a warm invite.
I knew this guy was friendly. But, man, as soon as I walked in the door…he was eager to pop the cork off the bottle in my hand. And not for the booze. It seemed genuinely important to him that we toast this occasion together. As he led me through the house, introducing me to friends and family, it dawned on me just how happy he was that I was there. It actually mattered to him. Oh, and after that first toast and hug, I’d never forget Parisa’s name again. She wasn’t as outgoing as Clint but was every bit as kind. Meanwhile, my brain was still trying to process how legitimately thrilled this dude was. I mean, I probably would have been at home in my underwear watching Turner & Hooch. Instead, I don’t think the smile left my face even once for hours. Honestly, the guy was as warm and welcoming as anyone I’d ever seen. He was just so giddy to share his house with the people he cared about. His cup was overflowing. And it made all of us feel high on life too.
I remember a long table with a mountain of food in his backyard. Plenty of grub for all of us. But, suddenly, Clint realized that nobody there had ever tried his favorite pizza joint. So he picked up the phone. And when the owner made it his last delivery of the night, Clint asked him to stay and join the party.
That’s the kind of person my friend was.
And, of course, the pizza guy stayed. There was simply no way to resist Clint’s enthusiasm and heart. I could tell you some happy stories about how we became close friends in the years following that night. All the backyard parties and laughter we shared. Or I could recite the heartbreaking tale of how his life changed instantly on one seemingly average day. But then I’d have to explain how hard it was to watch him lose the gift of good health. I’d need to remember how the most social, welcoming person I’ve ever known grew increasingly isolated. And then I’d probably start seeing images of a house that overflowed with such good times becoming a very quiet place.
So I don’t particularly feel like talking about any of that. Instead, what I want to say is this…
Clint was undoubtedly a better friend to me than I was to him. I only have a handful of true friends left in my life. But all of them were once strangers. So, if you have an acquaintance who you think might have true friend potential…
Maybe just see if they want to hang out sometime.
You never know. Something special might be around the corner.
