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Dec. 8th, 2006
Wandering Out of the Country
Dec. 8th, 2006 09:50 pmToday would have been my friend John Grossi's 33rd birthday. John died in 2004 of cancer. I still miss him. We had a running debate about whether the United States was an empire or not. He'd have had a field day with the politics of the last two years since he's been gone.
We wasted a couple of years not talking to each other after we tried dating for a few months and it didn't really end very well. More than enough stupidity to go around on that one. Newsflash: pride is a highly overrated thing.
But even before our poor failed experiment, John taught me a lot. He taught me how to be brave. He was my greatest, most vociferous cheerleader--always. So most of the confidence I have today is owed to him. He taught me how to have a good time arguing. We went on adventures together. We went to Montreal the day before the big secession vote in Quebec in 1995. He also taught me how to drive in the snow. We didn't have to leave the country to have adventures--we had them in Buffalo, too.
He'd be tickled as all hell about me being in the doctoral program at CUA. He liked to call me Dr. B-----. He always had complete, unwavering faith that I would make it someday. I remember one day, on the phone, he called me a bard because of my dual interests in music and history. When I do get that degree, there will be a trip to a certain Boston cemetery to show him.
So happy birthday, John. Wherever you are.
We wasted a couple of years not talking to each other after we tried dating for a few months and it didn't really end very well. More than enough stupidity to go around on that one. Newsflash: pride is a highly overrated thing.
But even before our poor failed experiment, John taught me a lot. He taught me how to be brave. He was my greatest, most vociferous cheerleader--always. So most of the confidence I have today is owed to him. He taught me how to have a good time arguing. We went on adventures together. We went to Montreal the day before the big secession vote in Quebec in 1995. He also taught me how to drive in the snow. We didn't have to leave the country to have adventures--we had them in Buffalo, too.
He'd be tickled as all hell about me being in the doctoral program at CUA. He liked to call me Dr. B-----. He always had complete, unwavering faith that I would make it someday. I remember one day, on the phone, he called me a bard because of my dual interests in music and history. When I do get that degree, there will be a trip to a certain Boston cemetery to show him.
So happy birthday, John. Wherever you are.
