Friendship remembered

Way back when, in 6th grade, I had a buddy named Mike Bush. We hung out a fair bit. We both tried out for the chess team...though sadly, he did not make it...and his Mom actually rented a house from my Dad for a while back when his rental business was a going concern before health and other considerations made him close it down.

Anyway, Mike had a friend who lived just a few blocks from me. He introduced us and for a while the three of us were pretty close. That friend was Alan. You may recognize the name from the link in the side-bar to his Ironman blog.

Even after Mike started to take a path that neither Alan or I would follow, a dark path of drugs, destruction and despair, Alan and I kept on hanging out, becoming pretty good friends. We also have the unfortunate sidenote bit of history: Alan was the other half of the last fist-fight I had.

To this day I do not remember what started it. It happened during one of the infrequent winters where we had snow. We were all bundled up...I had on about 4 layers of coats...and in front of the house for no reason I can recall we grappled, fell to the ground, got up...and he said, "I think it might be time for me to go home." "Yeah," I replied.

He went home, I went inside...and a few hours later we talked on the phone, never mentioned it, and everything was cool again. Not much of a fight...nobody was hurt, no punches were thrown...but there it is.

Anyway, we did a lot of stuff together. Hanging out playing Lemonade Stand in Mr. Howell's pre-algebra class was always fun. Played a lot of basketball together.

Later he moved down to California. Still got together on occasion since he was pretty close to Great America.

After he moved back to Portland we had a few memorable adventures together. Like the raft trip where he was in the front of the boat, I was in the back, we went over Boxcar Springs exactly wrong and the raft bent double. He lost his expensive prescription glasses. Total bummer...until we discovered them in my end of the boat. Weird.

I think a pretty good picture of the type of friend he has been comes from 1995. It was a pretty rocky year in many ways. Grandpa died, Aunt Donna died, Grace Buckles died, Vickie Miller died, another family member I did not know so well died, and of course Mom died.

When Mom died it was pretty late at night, I think about 9 or so. We were calling interested parties. When Alan found out, he took the next day off and came to just hang out with me. He would have come that night if I wanted. That speaks pretty highly of him in my book.

In recent years we have had a few dinners together, watched a few movies, etc. It has been a friendship that is now about 25 years in duration.

That is what makes his move to Washington D.C. so tough. Unlike Pleasanton, CA, it is not just a days drive to get there...it is across the country. We have seen with Billy how distance alters a friendship. Not that it is invalidated or disappeared, it is just difficult to maintain close ties when you rarely (or never) see someone and hang out with them. Not that I hung out with Al that much while he was here...our schedules were so hectic that is we caught 1 movie or had one dinner, that was a pretty involved month despite the fact he lived about 3 blocks from where I work. But we could still have that contact.

But today he started his drive to D.C. I wish him safety and happiness there. I understand why he is moving. In the same circumstances, I like to think I would too. But it is still hard. Just another reminder that growing up means change. Some changes are good...I am lucky to be married to a wonderful girl who treats me better than I deserve, it has been fun watching my younger siblings get married and, in two cases, have kids that I can watch grow.

But other changes are tougher...watching parents and grandparents age, sicken, and die, watching friends move away, or get involved in different stages of life than I am at, that sort of thing. And on the day he departs, it just really drives that home.