Unlike others who have come to worship at your alter during this milestone event, I have not known you for longer than I can remember. Rather, I come to praise Caesar, not to bury him. While others may wish to depict you as a long haired, beard laden, non-corporate California beatnik who was always cuter than anyone ever would have expected and yet still has not realized his full potential, not me. No, not me. I don’t care what any of them think. You’re still okay in my book.
Yes, despite all the characteristics you have not only demonstrated, but lived with Biblical adherence since we first met in college, I truly believe that potential still exists.
My recollection of days of yore smolders with Chinese food, music room conversations, travels in Moscow (“Young man you should be wearing a hat.”) and beer at dives that even make “Cheers” look classy. Abounded by such respect for your dates that- classifying one as “the pinnacle of mediocrity”- we knew you were headed in a special direction. Away from New Jersey.
So lets talk about your future, one to be dictated by your honesty (“You know, you’re really boring me right now.”), wisdom (“When a team is known as ‘lovable losers’, the operative word is not ‘lovable’.”) and observations. (“I’ve been told its all about ‘the core’.”) What accomplishments do you have planned? And if the Giants ever make it back to the World Series will you get tickets for your kids?
We are all optimists. Good luck.
Oh yes, and the Happiest of Birthdays old chum.