The best of friends

“Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.” Our lives are made exceedingly richer by our friendships. I was thinking of this this past week as one of my good friends -- Greg Schaefers -- celebrates his 50th birthday on February 25. Ironically, Greg and I went to the same school -- Hanson High School in Alexandria -- although he was seven years behind me. We didn't even know each other until we joined the same Army Reserve unit in Sioux Falls. And although I haven't talked with Greg in months, I know I could call him tomorrow and we'd recognize each other's voices instantly, and pick up a conversation like we'd never missed a day. Good friends are like that. “A friend is someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you just the way you are.” Over the years I've had many good friends and made a lot of great memories. And along the way I've lost some of my best friends. Three died way too young. Two of my closest high school buddies -- Barry Vlasman and Jerry Erpenbach -- have passed away. Barry went on to become a successful lawyer, practicing in Sturgis and later in Brookings. Jerry died in a motorcycle accident just outside of Alexandria when I was 22 and away at Indianapolis going through officer training for the Army. I was unable to attend his funeral, and I always felt something was missing -- that closure -- since I was unable to attend. Jerry and I used to cruise around Alex in his folks' blue pickup. Barry -- whose 57th birthday would have been on February 23 -- died about five years ago. We met in the 8th grade when Barry came to school from Fulton when our schools consolidated. We became friends with similar personalities. But after we left for college -- me to SDSU and Barry to USD -- we lost touch for several years. But after I returned to South Dakota, Barry often opened his Sturgis home to me when I drove out to Rapid City to attend weekend National Guard drills. And when he was around Alex he'd stop in and play with the kids. I remember his last visit -- he stopped in to see me in Montrose one Saturday while on his way home to Fulton. He was such a deep and thoughtful friend. It was just a matter of time later that Barry died. I felt that God obviously had an urgent need to call Barry home so young. And losing my brother Roger was probably hardest of all. Rog was the ideal big brother, mentor and friend. And his death at age 59 touched me deeply. Any problem I had, I could get advice or direction from Rog. And he was so even-tempered -- just my opposite. I cannot recall even once in all those years any instance of Roger ever raising his voice. He just wasn't that type of person. If I had a computer problem or something that required a big brother's advice, I'd call Roger. "Hey Bro," I'd say. And in his pleasant, easy manner, he'd respond, "Hey, Davy." I will never forget his voice. What a steady influence and great friend. When Rog died, a part of me died with him. “A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked” There were other good friends growing up. Lee Thomas was a good friend and high school teammate, and we spent a lot of time at each other's houses. I knew his parents well and he knew mine. And we played many games of 'whiffleball' in back yards around Alex. Then at freshman orientation at SDSU, I met another freshman -- Terry Harris -- who was majoring in journalism, and we became good friends and stood up at each other's weddings and became Godfathers to each other's children. And my years of army service account for many good friendships. That's no surprise, considering that camaraderie, trust and loyalty are hallmarks of the military profession. Wearing the same uniform in public identifies us as a brotherhood. Tom Berg was a good friend in the Army Reserve for many years, although I've lost touch with him over the past couple of years. And Lauryn Schumacher -- although he was enlisted and I was an officer -- became good friends after we drove out to Fort Carson together in the winter of 2003. Lauryn and I discovered we had a lot in common, and he was going through a particularly troubling time in his first marriage. We often crossed the Sand Hills of Nebraska, counting the windmills. Later in El Paso, TX, Lauryn and I would go jogging at 6 a.m. to get our fitness kick in before the start of the Army work day. And this past year I was a groomsman at Lauryn's wedding. There were so many other good friends from the Army Reserve. Some, like Bruce Blankley, are still "Facebook Friends" who I keep in touch with. "A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." And now my best friend is Barb. Good marriages become great friendships. We rarely go anywhere without each other, whether it's shopping, church, computer time, even working out in the fitness center. We prefer each other's company. It's just not fun -- one without the other. We bounce ideas off each other. We text endlessly. We share in so many ways. Comedian Bill Cosby has said, "The heart of marriage is memories." It is the cement that strengthens that foundation.