Where Highlands and Lowlandz Converge...July 14, 1999

Where Highlands and Lowlandz Converge...July 14, 1999

My Best Friend, Lowlandz, returned from a family camping trip recently. I had not seen him since the night of his "surprise" birthday party, and thus, we got together this evening. He regaled me with anecdotes from the trip, where he, his wife, children, and another couple, spent a blissful week in a cabin and by the ocean. If anyone needed a retreat from reality, it was Lowlandz. I was pleased to hear that he returned a happy camper. I had little to offer to the conversation; I did nothing but work while he was gone. I am looking forward to my retreat from reality.

I suppose I worry about Lowlandz too much. Having known him for almost a quarter century, I guess I have earned the right to be concerned for his well being. Juggling a full time job, a relationship, and two young ones is never easy. I admire his tenacity. It was well earned.

In the book I bought for his thirtieth birthday, I made a tiny inscription:

Having known you since we were seven, what an honour it is to be saying "Happy Thirtieth Birthday".

I feel the need to share that inscription, and reiterate how blessed I feel to have someone so close to me for so long, that was not a blood family member. I have met a lot of people in my three decades, and have come to realize what a privilege my relationship with Lowlandz is; how rare it is to have such a lasting friendship that bridges almost all my formative experiences. I often ponder the man Highlands would have been without this influence. The person I visualize is not a desirable one.

I believe that Lowlandz and I also share a connection that trandscends this level of reality into the realm of the spirits. Perhaps we, too, have had past lives together. Right from the day we met, it seems as though we were destined to be in each others' lives.

My father had just retired from the military, and we moved out to "the country". I was seven years old. I missed my life, my friends in town. I knew few people, as we moved in the summer. I would not have the socialization of academics for another couple months. Early in the fall, in an attempt to increase my social circle, I guess, my parents enrolled me in Boy Scouts. On the first night, I felt so isolated, so alone; I was a chubby little seven year old and a stranger to all these people who had known each other for most of their lives. Adults included. We played games, and even though I did not feel like it, I joined in so as not to draw any more attention to myself. As has been the theme of my life, it seems, attention seems to find me.

I remember so clearly running around, playing some form of tag. I did not see the person approaching me, at top speed. He did not see me approaching him at top speed. We ran into each other. The impact was like running into a wall with a hundred feet head start. He fell to the ground. I thought I knocked him out. The differences in our sizes was like we were from some sort of vaudeville sketch or circus side show. As over weight as I was, he was under. When our bodies collided, he did not stand a chance. It is a miracle that he survived the encounter. Even more of a miracle is that he became my friend, Lowlandz.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

We have had a diverse amount of experiences, Lowlandz and me. Perhaps I will feel inclined to share an anecdote here and there as time passes. And while I may shudder at the vision of the man Highlands would have been without Lowlandz, I already feel nostalgia for the two old men that will be creaking their rockers on the front porch, their bodies aged, their joints aching, their sight and hearing failing, dreaming of the days distant in memory, when two strange boys became brothers.

...Blessed Be