Cuban B

I think anyone who has a rather large social circle has a friend like my friend B. His real name is Brennan, but those of us who are close to him simply call him B. B is loud, out spoken, not afraid to do or say anything, his confidence is through the roof. He is a good looking man and he has a sonorous voice that echoes out when he talks and laughs. Everything about B simply screams that if this guy is with you, you will have an incredible night. Also, he is Irish, so that generally means you will have an incredible night, but you will be hazy on the details come morning.

I don't see B nearly enough anymore, time seems to do that to even the best of us, and I wonder how he is doing, though I am sure a man of his resources is doing just fine. I am sure soon enough he will reappear and we will have great times again, but I write about him tonight because I finally found (and subsequently remembered) an Irish philosophy that he told me one drunken night in the past.

B was always the first to have a good toast before taken a shot and he would never hesitate to give you a quick quip of advice here and there, but for the most part he tried to stay out of profundity. It was not that he was incapable of it, merely there was no place for deep meaning when you were with B, it was all about the moment.

Every now and then however, when you found yourself out with just B, no other people to distract or entertain, B would share is own form of Irish wisdom. Of all the conversations I have ever had with B, the one that stands out the most for me came one night shortly after my most recently relationship had ended. B and I were sitting in my house, already far more intoxicated than two people should be at such and early hour of the evening. He was giving me his own brand of break-up therapy, good company and good liquor. It was just his way and him simply being there was meaningful enough. I honestly can't say I remember most of that night, I know it was a blast and I actually felt a little better the next day, but until tonight I had been struggling to piece together what B told me about life. I always remembered bits and pieces, but as always with B, the details were fuzzy.

Earlier today I found a picture and this picture is of a sign, probably in a bar somewhere, that repeats exactly what B had said to me. I know B did not come up with it, but he was the first person to ever tell me it so in my head it is cemented as his wisdom.

 

To me, that is B's legacy. I know it may seem a bit silly, but it is profound in its' own right. If I never see B again, I can at least do him the honor of passing along his unique form of wisdom.

We don't all need to be like B, hell that would make for a chaotic world, but every now and then we should all stop and look at life through the eyes of a drunken Irishman. No need to over-complicate things. No need at all.