Here's a shot of my buddy Mike with my brother David, out in DC, watching a (World Series champions!) Nationals baseball game a few years back:
It's June 15, and Mike turns 51 today. I like to say that he and I are the open and closed parentheses of the 1969 moon landing: that event happened on July 20, 1969; Mike was born on June 15 (about a month earlier), and I was born on August 31 (about a month later).
It's hard to believe it's already been a year since we turned 50, but time marches on, I guess. Mike is a husband and the proud father of three kids, one of whom just graduated from college, another of whom is in college, and the last of whom will be heading to college soon enough (unless I can persuade Mike to send him to a trade school where he can avoid all the leftist bullshit and learn a métier that will earn him some big bucks compared to what his peers—the ones majoring in Intersectional Grievance Studies—will be earning).
Mike has been my friend since third grade, and the years have gone by swiftly. We're both older and graying now. Mike wants to walk the Camino de Santiago when he and I turn 60 (which I guess means waiting until I turn 60 since I'm slightly younger), and I look forward to that experience, assuming I'm still alive at that age!
Happy Birthday, old friend.
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