2019 gave me the opportunity to schedule a lot of overdue reunions, and my lunch with Elise was one of the most glaring. As we narrowed our options to a sushi spot in Kaysville last November, it occurred to me that our last get-together must have taken place before I converted to the way of the raw fish. As with so many of my best friendships, I met Elise during the Parker Era of our university YSA ward. We were fast friends, mostly because Elise is about the easiest person in the world to be friends with. But we had an additional advantage, in that her downtown office was only a block or so from where I worked at the Federal Building. So in addition to the rotation of ward activities, we could frequently grab a sandwich at spots like Skool Lunch, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist anymore. Those were good times at the U32, but a singles ward is a singles ward, and Elise’s female perspective was invaluable as I navigated the chaotic waters. My insights on the male mind were not so valuable, but I tried to pull my weight. She didn’t seem to need my help, anyway. As is often the case, our interactions dropped off after Elise got married and eventually made her way to Wyoming for a time. Lucky for me and my lunch project, I discovered that she had returned to Utah, so we were able to grab some sushi and catch each other up on the dramatic twists and unexpected turns of recent years. Overdue or not, the project wouldn’t have been the same without her.
I think I owe my friend Mark some kind of life debt. Back in the dark days of junior high, I was so blinded by the malaise of puberty that for a time, I was neck deep in a top-40 pop music habit. At one point, things got so rough that I actually had a poster of Paula Abdul on my wall. Luckily, sometime in the eighth grade, Mark introduced me to two things. The first was carpeted gyms, which wasn’t really relevant to this story, but feels significant. The second was the music of REM, Midnight Oil, and INXS. What the BMG music service called, “Modern Rock.” With Mark’s help, I got my musical footing at Centerville Junior High, and over the next several years enjoyed a dynamic friendship that covered pop culture, sports (gratefully, not every chapel in Centerville had a carpeted gym), and eventually even employment as we both bagged groceries at Dick’s Market in high school. I even remember getting some manual transmission lessons from him on his family’s Honda at one point. We stayed in touch through our missions and into college, then contact became more fleeting once Mark got married and pursued a more grown-up state of existence. Luckily we’ve been able to get together here and there, to watch the odd college football game or grab something for lunch near his downtown office at FJ Management (though he works in the Maverick building, he insists that he does not personally own the Maverick Center). When we met up last November, it was fun to catch up on old times and mutual friends, and swap London stories. I don’t know what music was playing on the PA at the Robin’s Nest, but when my lunch project inevitably gets turned into a big budget action-comedy, I’ll make sure to get a little INXS on the soundtrack.
