Last night, after three years of separation, I had a drink with my wonderful friend from high school, Perry, at The Garage in Birmingham. We talked about the normal: love, jobs, places we’d been, and the skinny on our fellow graduates, but also had a very distinct chat about our attitudes over the decade as Catholic schoolers, people of Birmingham and Alabama, and people who put an extraordinary premium on things like pedigree, school names/rankings, and other debatably important properties. (ELITISTS!)
I left not so much a changed man, rather, our few hours’ of exchange had an effect of reinvigoration, one that is common after such meetings with old friends.
Their stories and advice are inspirational, the way they poke at your memory and put you back in places you had forgotten is magical, and, selfishly I suppose, the good feeling you get for knowing you’ve been a good friend by reuniting is warming.
Soon, in school, I worry that I won’t be able to take as much time to nurture these relationships, even via the internet. So if you are or will be an old friend, please don’t give up on me 
If you ask, eventually, I’ll put you down for a drink at some point, be it near or far, in the future.