I wanted to call my friend Scott this morning and tell him what an amazing time I had last night with his family at dinner. I met Scott, his wife Liz, and two daughters Emily and Hilary when they lived across the street as our neighbors for way too short a time. They've since moved a few blocks away which means our visits can't be random sidewalk talks anymore, they have to be scheduled.
If you placed Scott in a line-up with a bunch of other guys and asked me to pick out a new friend, it would be difficult for me to identify him as one of great ones. I've always been totally blind that way. But being neighbors for several years made my pick much easier. In fact, our friendship seemed inevitable, because we're both loud and love to talk. Did I mention that we also laugh really loud too?
Scott is well aware of the fact that I'm a terminal idea man that could burst out at any moment with some random comment that requires his kid's ears to be rescued. But he engages me just the same.
You see, that's what makes Scott one of the great ones. He knows exactly what he's getting when Ray Basile comes knocking and yet he still invites our family to dinner, opening the door for me to over stay my welcome one more time. I know I can call on Scotty for anything and he'll be there, he's just that kind of friend. I get it. I would do the same for him any day of the week.
I am going to call him and thank him for another unforgettable time, allowing me to just "be", without requiring that I "do" anything. But I wanted to write about him first, because Scotty deserves to be immortalized. He truly is one of the great ones. Those guys don't come along very often. Thank you for being my friend Scott Martin. You matter.