
These were six men who were like brothers to me, back before we were men. In many ways they were closer than brothers. There exists an old adage that families are something you are born into, while friends are the people you choose to love. There’s a lot of truth behind that statement, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. Sometimes relationships are situational, and sometimes the people you choose fulfill different roles.
I was fortunate to have met these guys during our formative years, back when the world was shiny, crisp and new. Every experience we shared tilled new soil: every girlfriend found then lost, every new song freshly discovered, every car broken down in the middle of the night accompanied by a wailing cry for help. It was a magical time, that shadowy region that can only exist between late youth and the leading edge of adulthood. It’s that fleeting period when you possess all the power in the world, and none of the responsibility; everything is ripe for the taking. And despite the dire warnings of everyone who has ever gone before you, you mistakenly believe that the magic will last forever. I’ll let you in on a poorly-kept secret: it doesn’t.
The first one of us to get married, we all thought this was but another shining moment in the manifest destiny of our future, another notch in the belts of our collective experience. It rarely works that way. Marriage creates its own demands, as well it should. It both unites and divides. People get busy with life. Careers get started. A house demands a steady income, kids demand everything, and priorities shift from what you’d like to be doing toward doing what’s simply required. Something has to give, and more often than not, it’s the energy and enthusiasm for your
I was fortunate to have met these guys during our formative years, back when the world was shiny, crisp and new. Every experience we shared tilled new soil: every girlfriend found then lost, every new song freshly discovered, every car broken down in the middle of the night accompanied by a wailing cry for help. It was a magical time, that shadowy region that can only exist between late youth and the leading edge of adulthood. It’s that fleeting period when you possess all the power in the world, and none of the responsibility; everything is ripe for the taking. And despite the dire warnings of everyone who has ever gone before you, you mistakenly believe that the magic will last forever. I’ll let you in on a poorly-kept secret: it doesn’t.
The first one of us to get married, we all thought this was but another shining moment in the manifest destiny of our future, another notch in the belts of our collective experience. It rarely works that way. Marriage creates its own demands, as well it should. It both unites and divides. People get busy with life. Careers get started. A house demands a steady income, kids demand everything, and priorities shift from what you’d like to be doing toward doing what’s simply required. Something has to give, and more often than not, it’s the energy and enthusiasm for your