"Our Man in Amsterdam!"
On phone tag, Europe, Denver, and life's full circle moments.
Ever heard the saying, "You can’t choose your family, but you CAN choose your friends"?
Or that the people you meet in school or at work spend more time with you than your family—so it helps actually to like them?
Or that friendship is essential to the soul?
Well, if you haven’t, or even if you have, travel with me back to 1999.
“You’re it!”. Got his ass.
The first time I met Brennen, we were playing tag. It was the first day of 4th grade, and I kept calling him Brandon for some reason.
“It’s Brennen...no ‘a’, two ‘n’s’.”
Weird flex, but okay.
After all, it was nice to meet all the Black kids at my new school. There was a decent amount of us, a good number actually, but also, we were certainly “outnumbered”, I guess, for lack of a better word.
It was that moment, really that entire day, where I’d meet many of my best friends I still have today. Yep, 1999, we all descended upon that elementary school via a county-wide lottery, and though we met by chance, many of us have been stuck together ever since.
We’re family now.
And that’s the thing about family, sometimes they’re your friends first.
Speaking of family, let’s fast-forward to a couple of months ago.
Paige and I were headed to meet our nephew for the first time, and it was rush hour. So, to get there, I took a shortcut through a MARTA parking lot. And, as we rode through the lot, I opened my mouth in a way that those who know me best would know that it meant I was about to tell a story.
*A beat…*
“Did I ever tell you how Brennen’s Dad used to ride the MARTA to work every day? Yep, he’d park his teal green pick-up truck toward the back of the lot *just* (points) over there, and head on into the city. Yep, that’s what he’d do...
*Another beat…*
“...I never knew what he did for work. But I always thought that was super cool.”
Paige, having heard so many of these types of stories over the years, knew exactly what to say.
“That IS super cool!”
And, yeah, that was that.
We proceeded to meet our nephew, Denver. He was a joy! Smiling, fidgeting, letting his uncle follow his Daddy around the house as his needs were tended to with the care and precision only a few men possess. Diapers, burps, diapers, burps, y’all know the vibes.
He has a disarming gaze and a tilted smile that reminds me of my cousin, his Dad. It’s precious.
And babies change so much at that age, y’all, so I was paying close attention to every newly forming moment. In fact, by the time we left the crib after only a couple of hours, he was back to looking like his mama again.
Kids (and their parents), man... am I right?
And that’s where Brennen, our man in Amsterdam, comes back into play.
A few days after meeting Denver, Brennen and I had been playing phone tag for, well, a few days. Literally. You see, he’s in Amsterdam, which is at least a handful of hours ahead of my time zone, which is to say there aren’t many hours in any given day where we’re both either sleeping, awake, working or even in the same part of our day. the rhythm is off by nature, so when these games of phone tag come about, they can go on for a few days.
Anyway, we finally got the time to chat. Well, after he adjusted his headphones, tightened his bookbag, and hopped on his bike. I was casually eating lunch, and he was fiercely heading home from work. Time zones, man.
We talked about how excited he was to be an uncle again; congratulating me on my second child, soon to come. I was charmed by his presence, as I normally am, watching him cruise through Amsterdam, on his bike, headed home from work.
Fun Fact: Did you know Amsterdam has more bikes than people in its city?
The whole thing made me reminisce on the value of friendship. The 25 years since we met on that playground, and all the people that have gotten his name wrong since.
The time he hit a game-winning shot over me in our church basketball league, and then told everyone about it at school on Monday.
The countless hours we spent in the makeshift studio in his bedroom, writing verses and recording songs for our high school rap group.
The connection we shared to Tuskegee University, and their epic Homecoming Saturdays, with our parents having gone there. And as grown-ups, the moments he and I shared at each other’s campuses, Morehouse and FAMU.
Oh, and the time I came home to ATL during college on holiday break and he taught me how to Swag Surf.
Or of all the years he’s been better than me in fantasy football, even though he lives in Europe, smh. Embrassing.
And on that subject, I still remember packing the stands, rooting for him and the rest of the homies on the high school football team all the way to the state semi-finals in our senior year.
Double dates to the movies, trying to get closer to the girls from class.
And then, years later, the epic afternoon when I picked him and a lovely girl he’d met on Tinder up from a beer fest because they’d both had too many to drive. And then how I chauffeured them to a karaoke spot up the street and crashed their first date.
Then, the rather melancholy afternoon I dropped him off at the international airport to start his life in Amsterdam (with that nice woman he’d met on Tinder years before, of course.)
And then how good it felt to see a familiar face when I came to visit him over there a couple of years later.
Yep, even the time we got knock-down-drag-out drunk at a Valentine’s Day singles party after a failed attempt at a night of romance on my behalf.
And, even more, the time my girlfriend, the same girl from that Valentine’s Day night who is now my wife, had a 24-hour layover out in Amsterdam and he kept her company and showed her the town in my absence like he was Vincent Vega and she was Mia Wallace.
Our man in Amsterdam!
And then, the time when, on a trip to the States a few years ago, he and his fiancé decided to get married on a whim in his parents’ driveway. It was pouring rain, and I held my phone up to live-stream it to our friends and family who just couldn’t seem to find a flight to Atlanta in the 30-minute warning they gave us.
And, in that same exact driveway, the time me, him, his Dad, and my Dad built our 5th-grade science fair project together and took it to school like we’d won an Oscar.
And shit, even that time his Dad caught me cursing when we were like 10, and just about cursed me out because of it.
Family, I tell ya. Family.
On that call, thousands of miles apart, I couldn’t help but smile. He looked more like his dad now than ever–his mannerisms, his salt-and-pepper beard. He was a long way from that teal green pick-up truck in the MARTA parking lot, but somehow, he was right where he needed to be; as one tends to be.
And guess what? I still don’t know exactly what Brennen does for work, either.
Naturally, my mind went back to our visit with baby Denver. And how much his brow and off-tilted laugh reminds me of his Daddy. Or how my son and I rock the same haircut nowadays. Why? because of course, we do. Because life is indeed a full circle; maybe even a flat one at that.
And, well, as fate would have it, before Brennen and I got off the phone a couple of months ago, he told me that he and his wife, Ariana, were expecting! A boy, of course! I can’t wait to see how little man decides he wants to get to and fro work.
We actually just had the baby shower in my neighborhood clubhouse over the weekend. because that’s what family does. Full, flat, circle, huh?
For Lack of a Wetter Bird, find someone you don’t mind playing phone tag with.