Mid Life Crisis?

Not mine -- been there, done that. I'm talking about Mr. D, Do, Do Do, Dr. D., he who goes by many names, among them Dorian (sung to the tune of Gloria). My friend Dorian turned 30 yesterday, and I finally spoke with him after months of unreturned phone calls (Do, I'd all but given up).

Dorian's been my friend for years. I met him when he was not yet 20 years old. I was past that age then, and it appears I am still almost 20 years older than him. He was in my creative writing group at ISU. No, he wasn't the one who scared people off; that was Mark Brown. And he wasn't the one with the crazy red hair and all the political and social fanaticism; that was Jeremy Petersen. And he wasn't the middle aged chic with the really bad poems; that was me. Dorian was the fair haired boy with the ready smile who didn't have to always take things so seriously. What was he doing with us?

Over the years Dorian's friendship saw me through a lot of, let's just say good times and bad times. I was a little worried when I moved away because we're both pretty "in the now" kinda cats, and doing a long distance friendship is complicated. He came to visit me here in NY, one of the few people from Pocatello who has, but of course it's not the same as it used to be when we could just go for a hike, just go to eat, just put off responsibility and go at the drop of a hat. But it's fine. It's just good to know that even though he's an old dude (he mentioned hemorrhoid cream on the phone) and I keep getting younger, we still have a lot to talk about.

So, Dorian Dude, Happy Birthday Dude. Dude, it was great talking to you Dude.