In the fall of 1990 I first met Furman Riley during a mens retreat. I knew right away he was a wild, creative man: an artist. I never dreamed he would become my best friend. Furman was 58 and I was 30. The last 25 years have taken us on a journey that ended up bringing us closer than most men are lucky enough to experience.
It doesnt seem to matter how wet it is, how frigid, muddy, or windy, we find the time to walk and talk, talk and walk. No topic is taboo: relationships, sex, religion, doubts, politics, parents, children.
We reveal the weak places, the torn emotions, the half-baked ideas, the struggles. We find the joys, reaffirm our work and our loves, ponder what is imponderable We hold each other up. Or, when necessary, just stop and look eye-to-eye to see the other man that is there.
We have participated in each other’s weddings. Furman was one of the officiants at mine and I read a poem at his.
Furman arrived in the hospital within 24 hours after my son, Gabe, was born to hold him and arrived at my house within a day of my daughter, Ruchi’s, arrival from India to greet her. He is part of our family.
Whenever Furman is involved I can feel my heart awaken and added energy come into the mix. Best friends are good for life.
If there is someone special in your life, take the time to let them know.
– Henry Ford