BFF

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David Callahan paused for a visit on his way to New Orleans. We’ve been close friends since we were 6 or 7, when our houses sat back to back in Westfield, NJ. We would run barefoot on a path worn smooth, back and forth between our two houses, squashing slugs up between our toes at night when they crossed the narrow trail. For many years we sang together in our church choir four times a week and shot out street lights with a BB gun on our way home from practice. We froze our asses off riding to High School on my motorcycle. The cold turned our hands into useless claws well into the third period before regaining some rudimentary movement . I helped lay a few of the first 2,000 pound foundation stones at his amazing house in the hilly Ohio woods near Ohio University. We’ve lived very different lives. He’s the adventurer, the hairy chested man daring choppy seas to do their best to kill him while alone in his sailboat or in a rowing whaler he built by hand. Wildly artistic and extremely prolific, I’ve always been amazed by his accomplishments in art and adventure. I’m a homebody, rowing a small boat in rough waters off the coast of Tonga is about the last thing I would do voluntarily. I just want to be in my own kitchen making some nice lentil soup. But we’ve always stayed in touch, always picked up effortlessly wherever we left off. This time around, we spent two days immersed in animated conversation, laughter, and easy familiarity. So many years and memories to spark on, and, hopefully, many more to go…I love the guy, loved our two days together…Bon Voyage, David, say “Hello” to the world for me. Stop by again next time, I’ll be right here in the kitchen, playing some Lucinda Williams music and making a nice pot of soup.