This is one of the few posts I will ever make on this website that doesn’t explicitly cover anything related to the education experience but still needs discussion. If you are here to hear my perspectives on student silliness and whatnot, tune in next time. Right now, I need to do this for me.
Growing up in a small mountain town, I knew I was a little different. I preferred reading books over hunting deer, and the social milestones associated with teenage life in such an environment never interested me. Before I left home at 18, I knew my hometown operated in a reality I did not wish to be a part of. I’m just glad I didn’t allow too much of it to rub off on me on my way out.
I would return occasionally because of family obligations, but I didn’t want to stick around too long. I did not fit in with my home environment. My interests and pursuits were too eccentric for this small town. I know the locals would give me the side eye whenever I opened my mouth, and I wasn’t talking about hunting, cars, or women. Most of the family didn’t want to know what my research was about, nor would they ask. If anybody asked, they would say that I taught college because that was the only thing they knew I did.
Despite this, one person was willing to engage in “discussions” with me whenever I came home for a visit. He was my father’s best friend, Gary. There couldn’t be two more diametrically opposed people than he and I. I have a PhD, and he dropped out of school. He worked several labor-intensive jobs, while I am allergic to manual labor. His political views were further right than most, and I was not.
Yet, for reasons that escaped me, this man enjoyed my company. I know that the news programs he watched liked to paint university professors as villains, and I can recall that on more than one occasion, he fielded a question so far out in left field that I needed it repeated. I was unsure if he was looking for clarification or confirmation when he asked these questions, but I would do my best to explain my perspective. He liked that because he knew I wouldn’t back down or give a wishy-washy answer. 
Gary had his stances, and he was always open to debate. His arguments reflected the talking points of his political party, but he was willing to listen to somebody who represented the other side. While some of his other friends were quick to slight me for representing those despicable people on the left, Gary would be the first to defend me. He once told me that even though I had all those book smarts, I hadn’t lost my mountain sensibilities. Coming from him, that is high praise. 
When my father died, one of the things Gary told me was that I was always welcome in his home because he saw me as a son he never had. That is probably one of the more touching things anybody has ever told me. I was one of the first people outside of the immediate family notified of his passing.
While not known for his warm personality, Gary took a liking to me, which I don’t think many people who knew him ever earned. The list of people he did like probably wouldn’t fill a Post-It Note. We rarely saw eye to eye about many things, and his language during debates would get more than colorful; I understood that Gary was a product of his time and that there were some hills that he was willing to die on hills that needed to be abandoned decades ago. Still, he was a good sport in terms of his claims.
I don’t know if I will ever find another person with the same conviction and crassness as Gary. He could rag on a politician and bust your chops simultaneously. That level of sass is rare, and I will miss hearing his ragged smoker’s cough/laugh. I may not have him around to judge my left-leaning proclivities anymore, but at least he can shoot the breeze about drag racing with my father for eternity. I doubt either of them will run out of things to talk about.