Historically I have not been the best about maintaining relationships. When I graduated from high school I spent one last summer with all my friends. Then I left for college in Indiana, and with the exception of 3 people, I’ve never talked to any of them again. Well at least until recently when Becky tracked me down. I’m not sure why I let everyone fall away; it’s just something I did.

Adam and I met in college, and pretty quickly we became good friends. It was fortunate for me as my less than focused approach to classes often meant I didn’t have a clue as to what was going on in them. It turned out Adam had this uncanny (to me anyway) ability to know exactly what would show up on a test. He would always take time the night before to go over the important stuff with me, and as a result I usually didn’t fail. I firmly believe if I hadn’t had this support the first two years I would have dropped out.

After college Adam went to graduate school at UNC and I stayed in Evansville working for an ISP turned telecommunications company. We did a good job of keeping in touch; he had family here and he would be back once or twice a year. I even managed to get down to UNC once to visit. The same was true even after he moved to Portland, and even though I kept promising to visit there, I’ve yet to make it out (some seven years later).

When I moved to New York about three years, it was the beginning of the end (almost). We met in The City once when he and Sarah came out. After that, we didn’t talk for two and a half years. I always intended to write, but never seem to make it a priority. I even had a partially drafted message sitting in wait for about 9 months — pretty sad, right?

So I finally initiated contact — It turns out Adam has been blogging for some time now. As I read through all the posts I was reminded of how insightful he is, and how much I’ve missed his perspective, rants, analysis, late night conversations…

Whether you know Adam or not, you should consider him recommended reading.

Old friends, old friends,

Sat on their parkbench like bookends

A newspaper blown through the grass

Falls on the round toes

of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men

Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset

The sounds of the city sifting through trees

Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today,

Sharing a parkbench quietly

How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years,

Silently sharing the same fears

— Simon & Garfunkel