I'm zipping up I-95 until I turn off on to Highway 17 for a ride through the marshes until I bypass Charleston and then drive through more marshes until I arrive in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I am doing this, not because it the birthplace of Shag but to meet up with Bill Berry (not the former drummer for REM but the other one).
We met in Seminary and for the past quarter of a century have gotten together at least annually. We've been everywhere together. Our first "boys trip" was to Bardstown, Kentucky about an hour from the Seminary. We would drive there for the bourbon and to visit Gethsemane, the Trappist Monastery made famous by Thomas Merton. We were thrown out of it once for jumping the wall into the cloistered area and literally landing on top of two Monks who had taken vows of silence. When I landed on them they quickly broke their vows.
We've been to New York City where there is this Irish Pup on the lower east side. That's all I remember about that trip.
Paris, France was next and I fell in love with the place. The french fries really are better than anything in the United States and we couldn't bear to leave so we didn't for a while.
Then we went to Munich, Germany and found the beer halls. We locked arms with a hundred Germans, singing songs we didn't know and planned revolution over a bonfire that night. Somehow we made it out of the country.
Cuba was next which was great. American foreign policy towards Cuba is crazy. Those are some of the nicest people I've ever met. When I flew home I was busted by American Immigration. I didn't have a letter from the Treasury Department. They threw me in a room and yelled at me.
When I got out I called Bill and asked him about aforementioned letter.
"Damn," he said. "I knew I forgot to give you something.
Krakow Poland was after that and the Nazi concentration camp of Auschwitz. My life changed that day. Standing in front of a Crematorium that burned Jews and Gypsies, I found a broken pair of children scissors laying on the ground. They broke my heart and rest in a place of honor in our home for the little girl or boy who dropped them before being murdered.
I could go on.
Bill and I met as young adults, on fire for God and were blessed with the chance to grow up together. We're still growing up. We're still helping each other do it.
Lifelong friends are hard to come by. Count your blessings when you have some. Bill and I somehow can go months without talking and then pick right back up where we left off. So for the next 48 hours that's what we're going to do. Pick up where we left off.
