Rod

I want to break from my usual form - go ahead, laugh amongst yourselves - and tell you a little bit about a special person. I am abandoning the writing style and whiplash humor that usually inhabit my stories to introduce you to a person who has had as profound an impact on my life as either of my parents. His name is Rodney, but he's better known as Rod. Actually, we (his friends) rarely ever call him that, either. In college and the knucklehead years just after college, a close group of friends rarely escapes without each member of the group being yoked with a nickname. Rod, for his part, had a handful of nicknames draped over him: The Hawk, Dad, The Stain, The Delaware Condor, and the most popular one - The Ripper, which we sometimes shortened to "Rip." He took all of the nicknames in stride, even reveled in them, because no matter what we called him, no matter what divisive cut-ups were lobbed his way, one thing was without question: He gained your respect from the first hello.

I first met Rod in first grade on the school playground in the early 1970s at recess. He had buddied up with some kid named Chris Spring and they both stood out because they had the most bitchin' Converse high-tops. Chris had red sneakers and Rod wore green, if I remember correctly. Rod was your typical Cuban/Irish kid, which, if you know any Cuban/Irish kids, would require no further explanation. He was tall and had a permanent tan, with gangly arms and legs that belied his slick coordination. His hair was curly and wild and large eyes that seemed to pop out of his head. Even then, he was a force of nature. Everyone wanted to be his friend and he made complete strangers comfortable - even at that age. He was also freakishly intelligent. However, Rod's intelligence was not a purely scholastic ability. He was a master of deductive reasoning and savant of common sense.

I don't really remember when Rod and I became close friends. It had to be sometime towards the end of Junior High. When you were friends with Rod, you were swept into a world of seemingly hundreds of people who admired him and enjoyed his company. Rod's sense of humor was sharp and biting, and he could tear an unlucky victim to shreds, yet, five seconds later would make a self-deprecating joke about himself when he realized he went too far. And that laugh... Rod's laugh was infectious and contagious. It was a roiling, rolling, high pitch of thunder that rattled the windows of the surrounding neighborhood. Rod was what everyone who knew him, if they were honest with themselves, aspired to be.

By no means was he the perfect person. He made mistakes like anyone else. But, Rod held people in the palm of his hands - students and teachers alike - even the principal. Ferris Beuller had nothing on him. When Rod ran for Senior Class President, it was no surprise when he won in a landslide. His campaign slogan was "In Rod We Trust". And we sure did. He never smoked, drank, nor ever used profanity. Not even "damn" or "hell". People who never met him still knew about him. But Rod never let it go to his head, and by the time we graduated High School, we were very good friends.

There were never any really significant events during those high school years that emblazoned our friendship, rather, it was the consistent fun we had doing the most innocuous of things; Walking through the neighborhoods late at night singing "Hotel California" or "Stairway to Heaven" (I never had the heart to tell Rod he couldn't carry a tune - sorry, buddy!), taking my little brother with us to see a Benji movie and then sneaking into see Tarzan so we could see a naked Bo Derek, getting into his mom's station wagon in Winter and driving to the icy parking lot of the High School so he could lockup the breaks and do fishtails and spin outs.

When we went to college, I fell in with a terrific crowd of friends that are still my friends to this day. I brought Rod around and he quickly gained favor with everyone. MY college friends immediately became OUR college friends, and Rod returned the favor. We were a big, happy family and Rod was never too far from the center of the storm. He was the single most enjoyable person in any room he was in. He was also my best friend.

But, as much as we were long-time friends, Rod was willing to put our friendship on the line. I had flunked out of college and all of my university friends - including Rod - were continuing on. I half-heartedly took a few classes, took a few jobs, and partied all the time. One night during the summer, Rod was dropping me off at my parents' house after we had gone to see a movie. He said "I'm going to tell you something, and you're probably not going to like it, but I'm willing to risk our friendship because this is important." He then ripped into me for throwing my life away. I balled my hand into a fist and was ready to punch him, but I figured I would give him the benefit of the doubt and let him finish. When he was done, I realized that he was right. I was throwing my life away. My friends WERE moving on without me. To make a long story short, I eventually matriculated back to college full-time and graduated, and I still had my friends. It never would have happened if Rod hadn't risked our friendship that night.

Rod called me yesterday. We laughed and joked just like old times again. We don't get to see each other much - none of us do anymore - but five seconds into any conversation and we were right back where we left off. It's been 34 years since we first met and I could never look back at the good times in my life and not have Rod's presence permeate those memories. He has a wife (Stephanie) whom he loves dearly, and three children who lucked out in having him for a dad. Sometimes, I would wonder why someone who seemingly always had the world in his hands would have me as his friend. Thinking about it now, I'm probably Rod's longest-standing friend - just as he is mine. It doesn't say anything about me that he chose to be my best friend all these years.

But, it sure as hell says a lot about him. Thanks, buddy. Here's to another 34 years.