Admiring Adrian

My mother relished sharing the fact she had seen Gone with the Wind in theaters nine times and on television two dozen. It was her favorite movie for most of her life until she finally tired of it. Perhaps the maxim is actually true that All good things must come to an end.

I never cared for the movie, but that didn’t stop me from accepting the invitation to travel forty-one miles one way to see it with two friends. I had just finished my freshman year of high school. Carrie had finished her junior year. Adrian had graduated and was on his way to college in the fall. For each of us our favorite part of the movie was where Rhett Butler turns to Scarlett O’Hara and says Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!

It was late when the long, tiresome movie finally ended. On the way home, we had to stop and leave Adrian at the Bible camp where he was a counselor for the summer. We pulled up to his cabin and all three of us went inside to check it out. I’m not sure how long we talked but it was now close to midnight and we had overstayed our sneak peek. Carrie was eager to get on the road but she sensed I was dragging my feet, like I wanted to say something privately to Adrian. She said goodbye to Adrian and told me she’d be waiting in the car.

There I was caught between the need to leave and the desire to stay. I really didn’t know what to say. I stumbled around with any words that could be put together to form a reasonable excuse for remaining behind, but that just made the moment more awkward. Finally, I stopped pretending. I took a deep breath, looked him square in the eye, and said I love you. For the first time in my life I said those words to another human being.

Ten months earlier I started high school with no understanding of who Adrian was or what he could come to mean to me. Adrian was the student council president and that fall he would be chosen as the Prince of Spirit, the third runner-up to the homecoming king. He played saxophone in band and the jazz ensemble, sang baritone in chorus, and was the editor of the high school annual. He was a straight-A student, a member of 4-H, president of his church youth group, and starred in school plays. When he graduated he received the senior vocal music award, which I would receive three years later when I graduated.

Adrian was an incongruity in school. He did not participate in any athletics, did not smoke or drink, did not have a girlfriend, did not use crude language or tell lewd jokes, did not bully underclassmen, did not pick fights with peers, did not belittle school administrators or teachers behind their backs, did not vandalize school property, did not skip classes, and otherwise did nothing to tarnish his reputation that he was a good guy. Others unlike Adrian cultivated their status doing things he didn’t do, being in things he wasn’t in, and acting in ways he’d never act. Yet, Adrian was the popular one with lots of friends and no rivals.

It was clear to me that Adrian’s success in life and at school came not from conforming to standards imposed by an elite corps but by being his own king. He seemed to be sustained by the power of his own individuality which was unaffected by peer pressure or cultural norms antagonistic to his convictions. He savored his distinctiveness and the diversity of his interests and in this gregarious attachment to life he exhibited a natural charisma impossible to ignore. While he went out of his way not to offend anyone about anything, he was unassumingly fearless when the world required him to speak his mind for or against whatever he faced.

I wanted what Adrian had – the admiration of the entire student body – but even as a freshman I recognized it was a bridge forever too far. In fact, when I became a senior I was disappointed I had not attained among my peers that widespread aura of respect that Adrian had achieved. The best I could do was to be liked by the guy everyone liked. That became my objective for that solitary year Adrian and I shared.

I played the trumpet in band and, lucky for me, the trumpet section was just behind the saxophones. I joined chorus as a baritone but while I didn’t sit next to Adrian I was close enough. I had lots of friends in both venues and these classmates were friends with Adrian, or at least they were closer to him than I.

It’s hard to chart the progression of a soul coming into chummier proximity to another, so the most that can be said of my nascent relationship with Adrian is that mine did. Our relationship was far from considerable but it was more than accidental. We didn’t spend a lot of time together either alone or in groups but it was enough to indulge my desire to be with him. He had no idea that I fed off his energy, or that my greatest fear was that he’d take notice of my ingratiating nearness and become annoyed. I was concerned that if I became a nuisance he’d be done with me.

So, when Carrie left me alone with Adrian in his cabin that night I didn’t want to say goodnight because I didn’t want him to hear goodbye. I wasn’t ready for him to be out of my life even while I had no conception of any maneuver to bring him closer. Vocalizing my love for him was a big step and it bore far more substance than a stale I like you. We hugged and then sat down on his bed. The recollection is vague but I think I told him with more clarity how I felt. I suspect there were tears in my eyes as I wrestled with emotions that had never been exposed to another. It was a brief but unforgettable moment of consecrated authenticity that would be repeated in my life only two more times with other men decades later.

Over the course of the summer I went to see him at the Bible camp whenever I could arrange transportation. Twice I spent the night. We talked about my newfound friend, Jesus Christ, the book The Late Great Planet Earth and the fast-approaching Second Coming, our envisioned futures, and I suppose plenty of other things long dismissed from memory. It was rewarding to talk with him, but it would have been equally gratifying to do nothing but be in his presence, silently enjoying a grin that conveyed his agreement that our connection was real and good. The nexus between us advanced and strengthened through letters and visits to his fraternity. In college he was exactly as he had been in high school. He did well academically and he was well-liked by his peers.

In many respects Adrian was my first time. The first time I had palpable feelings for another man. The first time I ever voiced the words I love you to another person. The first time I was hugged by a guy. The first time I yearned to be with someone when I wasn’t. The first time I could talk openly about anything with a safe friend. The first time I saw tangible faith at work in a Christian. Understandably the first time for anything is the most memorable and that was and has been true with Adrian. His hand was the first to carve an inscription of affection on my heart but not the last.

The typical pressures of time and distance worked together to weaken our bond as Adrian completed college and I finished high school. He moved to the West coast and I moved on, too. Many years later we would meet again and rekindle a warmth that had never been extinguished. It was proof enough that some good things don’t come to an end but live forever.