It's the New Normal

A couple of weeks ago, as I drove to Seattle to see Winning Run, I phoned a college roommate to catch up with him.  Some years back, he moved away from Atlanta and started a family and pursued his career.  Unsurprisingly, time, distance, and the general pull of life's direction prevented us from talking as much as we should've.  Over the past year, Drewbie has phoned me numerous times and just left voicemails to say something like "Hey buddy, I'm thinking of you.  I know you're working hard; keep it up."  What's uncanny about it, is that he'd always call exactly when I needed most to hear a familiar voice, to get a brief pep talk, to have some unsolicited, unconditional support.  I can't tell you how much these little nudges worked to get me over each hump.

During our conversation, he was telling me about what's been going on in his life with some familial health scares.  As much as I'm overwhelmed by school, in the grand scheme of things, I have absolutely nothing about which to complain; things are pretty much OK with me. 

As we closed our conversation, I told him that I wished we could talk more frequently and that the frequency of our conversations don't reflect my affection for him.  To which he replied something like, "Hey man, I get it: you're in your 'new normal.'  You don't have the time to call.  Your normal is that you don't have time.  That's okay, I get it.  I'm just happy to talk to when we can. When I call, it's just to let you know I'm thinking about you."

Here's to the "new normal" and the practice of deferred gratification.

Old Friends

Many moons ago, I worked as a camp counselor at Rock Eagle 4-H Center. During my three summers as a counselor, I met many kids from across Georgia, worked until I was exhausted, and made the friends that I still cherish today. Without hesitation, I'd do it all again for free.

During my second summer as a counselor, 1993, I met a little girl who was there for a week of camp. At the time, she was homesick, crying, and ready to throw in the towel and go home. I spent a few minutes with her to cheer her up and calm her down. I'm pretty sure that we pinky-swore to be friends and for her to stick it out a few more days. After her week at camp ended, she wrote me as did many of the campers that we got to know. The next summer, she returned to camp for what was a better time than the previous year.

Since 1993, we've traded letters with one another. Through our correspondence, I've witnessed her grow from a homesick little girl, to a high-school student facing adversity, to a college student choosing a path in life, and into a wonderful, confident woman.

"A Skunk Went Around My Leg."

Last week, I went to the wedding of my penpal, my friend through fifteen years of letters. I felt quite happy, if old.