JOURNALGarth is my best friend of all time. We grew up together and in many respects we know each other better than we know ourselves. I can't describe Garth without describing the depth of our friendship.
We played in the sandlots together, rode our bikes through the grid roads of Saskatchewan, fought each other in the playgrounds, stood guard for each other, helped each other when we were most down. And we were room-mates together and held great big parties every week-end.
Garth has always been the McGyver in school and I was the Brainiac. He struggled through art and english classes and was a whiz in shop and phys. ed.
We went to different highschools together. He attended Balfour collegiate and I went to Central collegiate. Balfour had a rep for toughness and juvenile delinquency and Central had a reputation for academic excellence. But we would meet at his grandma's place during lunch and after school. We would plan week-end outings: Drive-ins, field parties, house parties, fishing trips, double dates and the like.
We smoked cigarettes and hung out at the pool hall and pinball arcade. We snuck into football games. Garth always drove. He was my Dean Moriarity. I never had to buy a car in highschool. And later, when I went to University he dropped me off and would pick me up if I called. Often, I would introduce him to girls at the Lazy Owl Pub. And that is what buddies are for...getting each other laid.
Garth has always been popular. He never really needed help finding girlfriends. He always had a bevy of babes at his beck and call. I've met every single girl he has ever dated.
Now, he still possesses his large hulking shoulders and mechanic's biceps with a little bit of Molson muscle. He has a common-law wife, Cathy, and two wonderful and mischievous boys. Adam 4 1/2 and Chandler, The Chandman, 2 1/2.
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