It looks like sunny skies
Now that I know you’re alright
Time has left us
Older
And wiser
I know I am

— melissa manchester and carole bayer sager

—

OK, so the iron infusion wasn’t quite the 21st century version of Lucy Ricardo’s Vitameatavegimen. I mustered a 3-mile stroll at 15:58 pace while looking for the fire alarm box to shut down the gym. And then the nice mechanic said that what I thought was a free tire alignment would cost $1,800. And then the orange man started blabbering. And then I lost the will to live.

And then Jami called.

I’m not sure how she ended up in my life. We worked together back in the days when there were things called “newspapers.” I’m an antisocial person by nature, but she never took no for an answer. How do people become friends? If I knew that, I would probably have some. But somehow, she snuck in one day and never left.

There’s something about her. A joy, a curiosity, a smile that lets you know she’s up to something. A laugh and a heart of gold, an unwavering belief in fighting the good fight against all odds, a wisdom that looks past the world’s horror and finds hope. Someone you’re lucky to somehow stumble across in a little office in a bad part of town between deadlines and crappy cups of coffee.

Sure, she once tried to shave my head, but she took me to the first Olympic beach volleyball matches and didn’t make me duck down when Karch Kiraly would glance in our direction. Life always balances out.

Mostly, she made me laugh. And think. And care. A lot.

We eventually went our separate ways, as journalists always do, losing touch and stashing the memories into the archive box to become faded and brittle with time.

But she refused to let that happen.

She would call and text and meet up for holidays. She was the best man/maid of honor/photographer/witness when Mo and I got married, flying from San Francisco to Phoenix to Flagstaff for the weekend. She came to cheer at a 12-hour race in the Bay Area, and brought a sign (laminated!) to the Phoenix Sufferfest. No, I didn’t drink H20. You have to draw the line somewhere.

Mostly, I know she’s there for me. She has always been there. And I’m sure she always will be. Except maybe for George Clinton shows. Did I mention you have to draw the line somewhere?

The world is a funny place. Eight billion people and change. What are the odds of finding this one person who could put up with me for so many years? I’m so lucky I can call her my friend.

I, of course, would never admit any of this to her. I am a guy. Awkward sideways hugs and sheepish mutterings. But maybe she knows all the same.

Time has left us older. And wiser. I know I am.

Now if I could just get a modicum of iron back in my body so I could live up to that sign. Run! Run! Run! Run!

I wonder if Amazon has Vitameatavegimen …