Bretheren, We Do Pray

My friend is coming to town. He and I have been friends for the longest amount of time of any of my friends. We met when we were both 14 years old. Shit, that is 23 years!

He was my first real mature friend. Which is not to say that we were mature, just that we were semi-adults with the feelings and thoughts that comes with that. All prior friend's commonalities were limited to Star Wars, and roaming in packs so we wouldn't be beaten.

He was like a brother to me. More so than my actual brother. He was number 11 of a family of 13 children. Oh, how I wanted to be a part of that family. Actually, in a way, I did become a part, but not like I so desired as a kid.

He was the one who introduced me to religion. It didn't take. However, his parents were the only non-hypocritical religious people I ever met. When ever I think about finding spirituality, I think of them.

He was the one who introduced me to world affairs. My family was not a group of news watchers, and geography was never my parents strong suit. He cared so much about the poor and the downtrodden, that I eventually started to take it all in. He once accused me of not being very deep, and that stung so much, that I have been trying to rectify that for a long time. For the record, he doesn't believe he ever said that, and tells me to this day that he doesn't think I'm shallow.

He always had some big issue, mostly girls. He was very dramatic about it all. Still is.

I was his best man, in the Czech Replublic no less!

Now, it will be just him and I. That hasn't happened in I don't know how long. He has been married ten years, and has three lovely daughters, so he doesn't have much of a personal life anymore. That's just the way he loves it.

He gave me my nickname of Mario. He always calls me brother.

It will be good to spend the next few days with him.