The Transporter Couch

Eric’s Birthday
My friend Eric turns 20 in three days. I call him my friend. I don’t know what else to call him. I met him when he was 10 and a little kid, and I’ve been around to witness the beauty of his youth, not entirely unlike my own. And the fallout of his reckless youth, not entirely unlike my own. But he’s not a little kid now and hasn’t been for quite some time.

I used to just be “Brian” but recently he referred to me as “my friend Brian” and I liked that. It’s peculiar. I’m 40 and he’s 20. And I’m his mother’s BEST friend (second to her husband, of course). At least he doesn’t call me “Uncle Brian” which would really annoy me. So I guess I’m a “friend of the family.”

I like Eric. Well, of course I love him like a brother but I genuinely like him and enjoy his company. If I could have a son, I would want him to be like Eric. He’s very very very very much like me. He’s enthusiastic but lazy. He takes residence in moments. He’s sort of perpetually in that in-between phase of “cute” and “handsome.” He’s gonna get fat if he isn’t careful. He’s kind, but moody. He’s sensitive and generous. He has GREAT hair! Almost as good as mine. He’s me 20 years ago. He just hasn’t quite yet learned how to work it. Which is just a different way of saying that he hasn’t learned to take himself seriously.
And why should he? Nobody else does. His parents spoiled him and I certainly am no role model and people who COULD BE role models are authority geeks that haven’t earned and don’t much deserve his trust or respect.

Eric, I can’t give you a birthday present. You have everything and you lack for nothing and anything I could hand to you would be immaterial to your life and your folks probably already gave it to you anyway. So I’m going to take you seriously. I guarantee that. I’m going to give you some advice. (Don’t you love this part?) Get out of here. The world is large and complicated and you of all the people I know can do amazing things in it. I understand you’re looking at moving to California or Wyoming.

Go.

Don’t fear that people will forget you. We won’t. You’re truly unforgettable. Don’t fear that you won’t survive. You will. You’re truly a survivor. Don’t fear that you won’t measure up to the challenges. We will support you. And you haven’t even tapped your resources. You will be amazed at the vast, deep pool of life at your disposal.
Happy Birthday! I love you.
Brian