I used to say I met Mike Egan the first day of first grade. His mother Donna recently corrected me: we met in playgroup. I’ve been honored to call him my best buddy since.
We survived six years with Catholic nuns before transferring to Westminster, where the following year a brash, rambunctious curmudgeon named Charles Driebe joined our class. He was loud, opinionated – obviously headed for trouble. We loved him instantly.
This year, we’re celebrating our 60th birthdays together. We won’t be exchanging gifts. We took care of that years ago, when we agreed to be friends for a lifetime.