Bill's Blog

Think back to the days of Jr. High, then High School.  Now think about your best friends from those days.  Remember how we swore that we’d stay best-est of friends forever?  Flip through your High School Yearbook and look at all of the notes your friends wrote in the pages:

“You’re the best!  Thanks for always bein’ there.  Stay Sweet.  Friends Forever!  Keep in touch this summer [which infers that you should leave me alone after those few months].  You made Algebra/Shop Class/Lunchtime/Government Class/Whatever so much fun!  Don’t ever change [could we have given a worse piece of advice/encouragement?  How would the 17-year-old version of you be doing right now, with kids, at your job, etc?].”  Some folks actually wrote an Epic saga, covering a few pages.

If you’re like most folks, you haven’t talked to those friends in many years.  Amazingly, my closest friends still are the gang that assembled back in 8th grade.  We’ve been scattered across the country–and world–but we’re still a close group that still celebrates Christmas together [and we've managed to get together for more than we've missed].

You might wonder what keeps a group of friends, in spite of the years and distance between us, so close.  Simple:

We love celebrating the sufferings of each other.

As Julian [one of the group] once wisely uttered, “The worse one of us feels, the better the rest of us feel.” Profound.  That’s real friendship.

Of the group, Jeff is probably the best one of us.  He’s the spiritual cornerstone of the guys.  He’s brilliant.  He’s the Mathlete that married the High School Homecoming beauty [she is also part of the original group, before they ever considered dating].  He volunteers with the Boy Scouts, he actively parents his 3 kids, he supports God’s work through the church.  He’s really a helluva guy.

So, naturally, we love to relish in his misfortune.  The greatest wedding gift Jeff could have given me–he did.  Standing as a Groomsman on stage, he passed out.  It has been the stuff of legend in the 10 years since.  God bless you, Jeff.

Thank the heavens–Jeff has done it again!  Another gift, more suffering, more celebration.  I thought it was the stuff of urban legend, but it really happens in real life:

Jeff went for a spleen-removal surgery!!!!

I know what you’re wondering right now:  “How does a group of friends properly celebrate another’s misfortune?” Great question.  It’s simple, when you think about it.  For centuries, how have men expressed the highest of celebration, coupled with the depths of despair?  You guessed it:

POETRY.

Yes, we write poems to commemorate the big events in our history.  This is especially useful for the spleen-removal saga.  If you have a friend losing a spleen, just try to find a Hallmark card for the occasion.  Tell me if you find one.  Otherwise, I have your solution.  Over the next few days, you’ll be privy to the beautiful sentiments that we penned for Jeff.

Granted, this has nothing to do with Photography, or Beyond Photography.  These poems are more like a public service announcement and a daily inspirational anecdote, all mixed together.  It’s just my little way of making the world a better place.  You’re welcome.

And thanks, Jeff.

[Sidenote:  when you read a reference to Dr. Kim, that's the surgeon who performed the operation.  More ironic is that we attended the same High School.]

******************

Gentlemen,

Jeff is recovering well, but let’s not allow that to temper our entrees.  My two limericks are below.

To some Jeff was seen as a geek.

Still others thought he was weak,

‘Till they cut out his spleen,

Sewed him up with some string;

Now he’s quite frankly a freak.

*******

Jeff was sick more often than not.

He sneezed and sniffled a lot.

Then they took out his spleen

(God’s cleaning machine),

And now he’s up to his ears in snot.

–Jason