Foe to Friend

This cup I received in November represents an important life lesson. And surprisingly it has nothing to do with superheroes. The story begins many, many years ago.

"I am so happy I don't have to go to school with you or see you ever again. I hate you."

Those are the last words I remember Carly saying to me in junior high. We'd been in the same class for most of our lifetimes at that point. I never felt much animosity toward her but I felt it directed at me, especially throughout eighth grade. "Fuck her," I essentially thought to myself and let it go.

"I have to tell you how sick I was of Rolando."

Those are the first words Carly said to my fiancée at a casual grade school reunion a few years ago. Unfortunately, Carly left early and we never got into it. "Fuck her," I thought to myself and let it go.

Then Facebook happened.

My general rule on Facebook is "friend everyone, even the people you hate." I love gossip, sue me. So, of course, Carly and I were Facebook "friends," despite having been nemeses (her word). And she started posted the most interesting stories about life, love and relationships. Some of my favorite topics. I'm talking about genuinely interesting stories here, not the nonsense most people -- often including myself -- post on Facebook. I began commenting and before you knew it she and I realized something:

"Holy shit! We have a lot in common!" (my words)

Two months ago I got a message from Carly asking for my address. A few days later that cup came in the mail. Suddenly an old nemesis had become a new friend who gave me a gift that was, quite frankly, more thoughtful than most gifts I receive. Here's a recap of our Facebook exchange once I got it:

Now there's a conversation I'd never thought I would have.

On her own blog, Carly just wrote a story about our first grade class. I urge you to read it. It was the inspiration for me to finally write this piece.

One last note: my ARCH-nemesis in grade school was a boy named Sam Hindy. Sometimes we'd be best friends, other times we'd hate with the fiery wraths of Hell. When we parted ways in junior high, it was pure hate. I guess I felt towards him the way Carly felt towards me. In fact, his father was co-founder of Brooklyn Brewery so I made it a rule to never, ever pay for one of their beers. That's how deep the resentment ran. Then at the aforementioned grade school reunion we got to talking. His first words to us were "Rolando and I had a love/hate relationship: we loved Nintendo and we hated each other." I laughed. We spent the entire night talking. The childhood hate had bred a strong connection that, as adults, brought us together in a happy way. My last memory of Sam was standing on a rooftop that night, smoking a cigarette and sharing memories. 

A few months later he tragically passed away in a biking accident. "Grateful," does not do justice to how I feel about the opportunity to end our time together with laughter.

Sam: I dedicate this story to you, my friend.