We became close friends in our junior year of high school at Wilde Lake . We lived within a quarter mile of each other in Bryant Woods and we were as thick as thieves. Dave was my dangerous friend. I did things with Dave that were dangerous and often illegal. We made our guardian angels work overtime. While I hope and pray that my teenager never does anything like we used to do, I have no regrets.
After high school our life paths began to diverge. I went out of state to college while Dave took a stab at HCC. It didn’t take for him. Dave was never very academic. We slowly grew apart. Returning to Columbia after college I no longer even knew where Dave lived. Occasionally I’d run into him tending bar at Morgan’s at the Columbia Hilton but our former bond just wasn’t there. He was working and I was the customer. We were cordial.
More years passed and, for each of us, marriages and a couple of job changes. Then, around ten years ago, we found ourselves living within a quarter of mile of each other again, back in Columbia . Before long we were getting together for drinks every so often. We even took a trip to Jamaica together in 2002. It was on that trip that I finally realized how far different we’d become. Our first day was like old times, a big party with lots of laughs but by day two it became obvious that, beyond drinking, we shared very little in common anymore. After we got back to Columbia our friendship waned, though we continued to stay in touch.
Dave fought a tough battle with alcoholism but in the end it was vascular dementia that did him in. He died on St. Patrick’s Day. Somehow I think he’d like that.
He was my friend and I’ll miss him.