John Ryan taught me how to drink beer. And wine.
And cognac. And whiskey. Not just to drink as in the copious amounts
that most college students drink, but to appreciate the good stuff. We didn’t drink to get drunk, but to understand
the art of it. Even on one particularly
memorable occasion when we drank beer and wine and cognac and whiskey and sake
in the same night.
He also taught me how to enjoy food and to disdain chain
restaurants. Long dinners together
ranging over many topics are my fondest memory of our time.
He loved to experience all there was to life. We had times spent together at mardi gras
parades, art museums, the ballet, horseback riding, and Shakespeare plays just
to name a few.
I have always been shy socially. John was the one who encouraged me to be
bold.
He is the only person who has visited me in every place I’ve
ever called home. He stood up with me as
a groomsman the day I married.
There was a time when I was at my lowest; unemployed, alone
and despondent. Out of the blue he
called me up and invited me to a weekend at a luxury hotel. I don’t think he ever knew how much he helped
me that time. There are many things I
owed him. Things he did for me and
things he taught me. I owe him more than
I can repay.
We met the first day of class, freshman year of
college. It was the oldest assignment
out there; interview the person sitting next to you.
Since then 28 years have passed.
Over those years were a lot of adventures. I always assumed we’d have another.
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