My blood brother

The time is late, just after midnight on Sunday morning. Man, this Saturday went flying by, and I think I wasted much of it working and organizing. I did, however, get some pretty good things done.

My oldest and bestest friend IM'd me from Utah. I grew up with this kid, (yep, a kid even if he is in his thirties now) He now has lovely children and a wife who makes him better than he is. We realized that we have that in common, having wives that make us better than we are, just like we have a common link between us: our childhood.

Vince grew up two doors down from me, and was always someone I could talk to. Of course I tried to be Mr. Tough Guy and never let the pain of my childhood show, but I felt, and always have, that Vince was the one person I could always be myself around. We could talk about all kinds of stuff, and rarely got into fights about our beliefs. He was always someone I admired, as he never quit, showed fear or weakness, and stood firm in his beliefs and morals. Although he was a little shorter than most, he didn't earn his nickname "Bulldog" because he wasn't housebroken and needed to go for walks 10 times a day. No, he earned that nickname because of his tenacity, a trait only surpassed by his kindness and humanity. I realized when we stopped "talking" online today that I really miss him, and it brought a smile to my face to remember all the silly crap we did as young kids.

I will say that although we have both moved on from the "best friend" and "blood brother" stage (yes we actually cut our hands to become blood brothers), I still love this guy as if he were my brother. Gone are the days of digging tunnels, playing war, practicing football in his back yard, the endless games of flashlight tag and hide and go seek. I do, however, trade those days gone by with the memories they bring. I remember the first day when I was 8 when Vince introduced himself to the new kid (me) moving in down the street. I am proud to say that I can still remember that silly smile of his, with his curly red hair all over the place as he swung upside down from a branch in the big tree next to his house. I remember the tire swing he had, the countless tree forts, and all the fun stuff we did with some of the other kids in our 'hood.

I remember Denise R., who we all had crushes on when we were just turning into teenagers. I remember when his brother Joseph was born, and his sister Katherine. I remember when my sister broke her thumb jumping ramps with us, and we tried to get her to lie and say she did it in the pool (we weren't supposed to let her jump with us). I remember the break dancing contests in his living room, the same time we all thought we could dance like Michael Jackson (I am laughing out loud at that one). God, there are so many memories I dare not list them all. I can honestly say, with much joy, that all of them are happy.

I haven't seen Vince in about 20 years. (Has it really been that long?) We went our separate ways about the time I graduated high school, started partying, and doing many other stupid things I am not too proud of. Vince always kept the firmness of his morality, the strength of his character, and the sense of who he was longer after all of that waned on me. You can see it in his family pictures he sends from time to time. You can see it in how he followed his heart and moved to Utah. I could see it today, when in the cold of Utah's winter, my old buddy Vince was going out in the early morning to help a friend do some work. Yep, he hadn't changed much at all.

So, my friend, if you are reading this, know that this man has never forgotten you, and still loves you dearly as a friend for all the bad times you helped me through and all the good times you have left in my memory. I thank you for the smiles I had today thinking about all of those days that were not nearly plentiful enough. You will always be my friend, and though the scar on my hand is long gone, the symbolic meaning will never fade. You will always be my "blood brother".

Peace.