Jim
My mortal enemy, whose sole purpose for his meager existence is to drive me around. Or so he says.
Jim is my best friend, occasional travel companion, and frequent foil. Currently a professor living in northwestern Pennsylvania, the two of us have visited six countries together, indulging our twin passions of supporting United States soccer and the consumption of spicy Korean food.
We got to know each other in 1994, when Jim was hired as the new hall director at Bruce Hall and I was one of the rookie RAs hired by the previous HD. At that time, Jim was different than me in nearly every way, and a betting man would have been wise to predict we wouldn’t get along.
I was young and still very immature, going through the world with so much self-centeredness that others were sometimes repelled by my temper and selfishness. A godly man, Jim was older and more settled in life than me. The only person I’ve ever met who didn’t watch television †, he was incredibly cynic of our modern celebrity culture and instead found satisfaction delving into the past. At my most recent count, he had five college degrees, including a doctorate in Shakespeare studies. In some circles, this makes one a professor. In my book, it makes him crazy.
Over time, I grew up and learned to follow some of Jim’s example. In turn, he found a friend that he could trust with things that others would never know. Whenever we get together, our usual activity is locking of horns in a match of wits. When my bursts of randomness fail and he gets the best of me (which is fairly often), my fallback is to let him know, “I hate you.”
But I don’t. At least, not today.
Some stories starring Jim include: