Buddies

Ever since I can remember, my Dad's buddy Dave has been in the picture. He's been around for every major event in our lives and he's been my Dad's right hand man since they were kids. We were joking around last weekend about how on earth they were both going to walk me down the aisle at our wedding this Fall.

This photo was taken just after we saw a bald eagle soaring overhead, and, after 30 years of watching my Dad stand like that, hand in pocket, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, weight shifted a little to the left, I can tell he's probably giving a speech about bald eagles. He's probably reciting all of the facts he read in an article in National Geographic in 1974 and he would probably offer to show you the article if you asked because he has a collection of every issue ever published. One day, someone is going to stumble upon that collection and be rich riddled with 5,789 issues of National Geographic that they're going to feel really guilty throwing out. Good luck with that, sis!

And the way that Dave's standing is so familiar to me too. From 30 years of hearing my Dad's speeches about everything from beavers to partridge to forest fires and farm animals, this is the stance we have learned to adopt to help us through these trying times. Arms crossed, mouth slanting down into a slight frown, eyes glazed over. Probably mumbling something like "oh yeah," "is that right?" "wow, I didn't know that," all the while thinking "what am I going to wear tonight?" "I'm all out of shampoo," or, in Dave's case "God I need another beer." 

After almost 50 years of speeches, Dave's still around and sees my Dad almost every day.

That's what I call friendship. And a little bit of mutual weirdness. But mostly, friendship.