Today we celebrate 30 years of Joshua. It's been a big week for our man. On Sunday he received a snazzy hood and hat from Boston University....the stuff they give you when you complete a PhD in religion and literature. Today he completes a metamorphosis: from the skinny Michigan grad, spiky-haired and poked full of earrings, who walked down Peterborough Street and into my sublet that July day in 2000....to a fellow thirty-something with job worries and a teaching and publishing career to manage.To my relief, in eight years Joshua hasn't lost most of what makes him Joshua. (Or Josh, to his pre-Boston buddies.) He teaches me five new vocabulary words every time we talk, without trying. He still is stylish in his clothes found at the Salvation Army secondhand store, enough so that I could spot a non-thrift shirt (at his dissertation defense) in an instant. He'll still join me in a jumbo tequila shot at the Courtside if the situation warrants. Still prefers to keep the peace instead of arguing, but will debate anyone on the Democratic hopefuls.
We still play frisbee once a summer and promise that we might one more time head to the Big Cheesy for some overly-inebriated dancing.....although he was still well in his 20s the last time we tried, and failed, to enjoy such an outing. Mostly because we felt too old, and weren't afraid to admit it... (also, because the place has since closed!)
Despite living in Ithaca NY this year, he has been constant to my version of Boston. Constant in his sweetness while trying to prove he's a tough. In having the singing voice of Tony Bennett, Chris Isaak and Al Jarreau rolled into one. And he is a constant friend.
Happy Birthday!
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