It’s Dudley’s birthday today! He doesn’t have a blog of his own, but I know he hangs out here quite a bit, so leave him a comment to wish him happy.
Dudley is my husband’s best friend. They met in college and have remained close, despite a pretty significant geographical divide, ever since.
The stories about sharing duties as the Syracuse mascot never get old. Neither do the road trip stories or the skiing adventures (or the Hunt for Red October quotes).
They have each other on speed-dial, and the phone is often ringing in the middle of sporting events that one KNOWS the other is watching (sometimes, Mr. Chili has ME answer the phone because we’re watching the game on TiVo, and he doesn’t want Dudley to spoil something my husband hasn’t gotten to yet).
They were attendants at each other’s weddings, and my husband barely made it through his best-man toast at Dudley’s wedding a year and a half ago.
When one’s got a problem, the other’s got an ear. The phone rang the other night, as a matter of fact, with Dudley on the other end with a car question. I love that they do that.
For as much as I love and admire Dudley’s friendship with my husband, I also love that he’s my friend, too. A lot has happened since we first met, and much of it has served to strengthen our friendship in its own right. I know that I can call Dudley when I need advice about something (or when I need help understanding my husband a little better) and he’ll be there. He’s smart, he’s funny, and he’s a genuinely good man.
I’m going to leave you with the story of Dudley’s and my first encounter. I was newly dating Mr. Chili, and he invited me to come with him to spend a long weekend with Dudley and his family in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. We arrived at the house to find a note telling us that everyone was at the beach. I was introduced to Dudley who immediately asked me three questions – “how old are you, how did you meet him, and do you ski?” Five minutes later (and, I’m told, completely unplanned) his wife asked me the same three questions. Despite my never having strapped skis to my feet (I still haven’t), I was instantly and unconditionally accepted, and I’ve felt like an old friend ever since.
Happy Birthday, Dudley. We love you very, VERY much.