Nearly Normal

A half century ago I met a man who would be my brother, the Godfather of my son and a constant source of amusement for the ensuing five decades. I was a waiter in an Italian restaurant and he was the bar manager. I was tasked with getting ice for a pig roast and I spilled a pile of cubes on the bar floor. I went on my way without a second thought. About a half mile away from the restaurant this bar man suddenly loomed in front of me and offered to kick my ass if I didn’t return immediately and clean up my mess. That’s how the friendship began and it was the first of many messes that he demanded action on. Last week, I received the news of this man’s death and it made me realize what an amazing character had entered my life in a melting mess of spilled ice.

In the years we knew each other we travelled together, got clean and sober, and shared life events: marriages, birthdays, funerals. Our paths ran parallel and often intersected. At each meeting point we simply picked up where we left off – each knew the other so well.

My friend built much of his life on enthusiasms. He segued through golf, competitive cycling, auto racing, art collecting, day trading, basketball and Buddhism. Unlike most of us he didn’t sit on the couch and wonder if he should take up archery or crocheting…he went all in. His enthusiasms were intense and all-consuming. There were no boundaries. The cycling phase required an $8,000 custom bike and a pile of gear. It also required a trip to Europe to ride behind the Tour d’ France. His car racing moment saw him buy a new Mini Cooper and a fortune in racing equipment to make the car competitive. Finally the car was entered in Cooper’s Race Across America. Many of us enjoyed a trip to Hawaii but he had to add Tonga and Tahiti to his itinerary. There were no half measures and he squeezed all the life out of whatever he did.

Like a true friend he did not hold back when I needed a swift kick in the ass. One night we sat in my car outside an AA Hall for two hours as he listened to me snort and complain. After my Jeremiad ended he paused for a moment and offered me this: “you have a beautiful wife, healthy children, a good job and many friends…YOU’RE RUNNING OUT OF REASONS TO BE AN ASSHOLE. Wise words. Two days later a package was at my front door that contained a blue tee shirt emblazoned with the message: RUNNING OUT OF REASONS TBAA. He made sure I got the message and understood the power of gratitude.

He was not without his faults.

In conversation, his stentorian pronouncements were dismissive and irritating. His jokes were often tasteless and crude and he ate a combination of salty and fried fast food garbage that was truly disgusting. He talked over you and knew just a few too many answers. But there was also an unfailing charm – an energy – that was genuine and attractive. Often, you learned something. For me he was the embodiment of the person Winnie the Pooh referenced: “I knew that when I met you an adventure was about to happen.”

His sister sent the note of his passing and referred to him as a, “pesky hummingbird.” That says it all. Great energy, attractive coloring and the occasional irritation when the bird buzzes your face.

Now there is a hole in my heart where he used to live. He taught me much about acceptance, gratitude, courage and self awareness and I will never forget the lessons. I agree with Mencius; “friends are the siblings God never gave us.” This man was the brother I was gifted with. A true friend, indeed.