A tribute to JL, on his wedding

Just in case this story is deemed unflattering to the subject, I am using the acronym JL. Will anonymize further if necessary.

I was surprised to receive an invitation. I hadn't kept in touch. When asked, JL jokingly (I hope) said, "Oh, that was probably [my fiancee]." I somehow doubted that my volume of article repostings and random thoughts on Facebook had endeared me to her. But it was as plausible an explanation as any.

So I don't know why I was considered special enough for an invitation. But I did think about why he was special enough that I would go.

I knew JL in college. We were suitemates one year, though the "suite" in question consisted of two isolated rooms joined by a long, ominous hallway with an enormous restroom and shower. Both of our roommates were in relationships, and so we occasionally wandered down the hall of horrors to engage in conversation. This was especially true during the summer, when it was just the two of us working that summer.

I remember once during that summer I gave him my video games, in a desperate attempt to quit. A day or two later, I came crawling back for them. He refused to give them to me. Damn him! But he did give them at the end of the summer.

The rest of this post is of a more serious nature.

I am going to say something that I haven't confessed publicly, or to anyone except JL. Once in my life, I drove drunk. Worse, I drove drunk with three others in the car. I was the designated driver, but I caved to pressure and took a double shot at a house party. While driving home, I was drunk enough that I pulled over to the side of the road and pissed in public, near a railroad crossing.

JL took the keys from me and got us safely back. He claims to not remember the incident -- I don't know if he's saying that to be kind, or because he honestly forgot. But he never scolded me, or even brought it up. It was his car, and his life, at stake. I never drove drunk again, but I still feel incredibly guilty about how my gross lapse in judgment could have been fatal. Perhaps he saved our lives that night.

Many years later, in the depths of my depression and unemployment, I spent some time with JL and his then-girlfriend (now wife). I don't know if he asked me to hang out because I was depressed, or if it was just because we had been friends in high school. I had a great time, but I felt too guilty to follow up and hang out with them again. I had nothing to offer. I think I was so depressed that I might not have been entertaining company. We might have met only twice since college, but I was grateful for the lifeline. I don't think he necessarily understood what I was going through, but he was wise enough to know that understanding isn't a prerequisite for empathy.

If you want to judge someone's character, observe how they treat someone who can do nothing for him or her. I'd heard him voice this belief before, many years ago, at a fast food restaurant. It comes back to me now, that distant memory. Maybe as a man he wasn't fully formed -- who is in college? But the framework of his character was already present, and already on solid ground.

One final story. My father died a year and a half ago. I posted it on Facebook, partly because that's what I do, but also because those who know me know how tremendously I have been shaped, both positively and negatively, by my father's presence, absence, and perceived influence. I received many expressions of condolences. But there were only a few people who called, nearly all of them family.

JL called. We talked. He offered to take me out for dinner that week. I put it off, and never followed up. It didn't seem significant then, though in retrospect, it was amazing. I hadn't seen him in a couple years, and yet he felt compelled to reach out with a phone call, nearly anachronistic, incredibly quaint in its courtesy.

He works for one of the most modern companies in the world. And yet, somehow, he's both old school and new tech.

The day of his wedding, my stepdad went to the ER. I almost didn't make the drive to the wedding. But he told me to go. I had to leave the evening celebration early because he had returned to the hospital.

But I'm so glad I went. It was my small way of repaying the many kindnesses I have received from him over the years, to celebrate his commitment to a wonderful woman who, from the first moment, treated me with open-handed friendship.

I cannot claim to know them well. But I am glad to know them. I told them in an absurd post-it note (substituting for a wedding card -- the madness of this week being my excuse) that they were part of my tribe. I mean it. They've met the cutoff of Dunbar's Number. I just need to do better to show it.

Congratulations, JL. I am proud of you, and proud to know you.