The Brentmeister is one of my best friends. I met him when we moved up here to the 'Couver back when I was somewhere around the age of nine. He lived across the street. I haven't always been a nice boy, being nice sometimes takes some learning. I remember him giving me some of his baseball cards so that we could trade with eachother. "ok, I'll trade you my Darryl Strawberry for my Jose Canseco" "Whoa, thats a little steep my friend. You're busting my balls Brent. Throw in a Bo Jackson and I think we've got a deal" I failed to mention that I had my own baseball cards somewhere in a box.

The Brentmeister wore black snow boots. All the time. All summer. With shorts. He liked them, so he wore them. Brent also had cool Rebock pumps and Air Jordans when they came out. The Brentmeister had it all.
The cupboards at his house were filled with Capri Sun's, homemade granola, and those small bags of chips that every child needs. But he always craved my home's Saltines. He'd come over and be like "Dude, can I have some of your saltines?" The Meister loved saltines. I thought they just tasted like dry salty crackers.

Our dinner table sat infront of a large window that looked past our front yard and into the neighbors (Brent's yard). I think he got lonely while we ate dinner. That or he just got bored. Our rule was that we did not answer the phone during dinner. Damn salesmen.
...ring...
...ring...
...ring...
"Hello, you've reached the Woods. We're either not home or we don't want to talk to you, so leave a message right after the beep"
Brent: "Come on guys! Just pick up the phone! I can see you."
This is when Brent would begin to shine his flashlight from his bedroom window into our dining room window. We would wave and try to sign 'sorry' or 'our phone isn't working' or 'we're eating, ryan can play in 20 minutes' etc.
Brent: "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb...I can sing this all day. Come on guys! Just pick up the phone."

I knew that I was getting a bike for my eleventh birthday beforehand. Brent told me. The Brentmeister knew what secrets to keep and which to spill.

He was always an early riser. When I would spend the night at his house he would always wake me up early to watch WCW wrestling. I think it showed at 5am on tbs. We rooted for Sting I think. At night we would get in the bottom of our sleeping backs and quietly break up Top Ramen noodles in a ziplock bag and then poor the seasoning over the top. We had to do it quietly, you see, lets the parents hear us. To this day I am unsure why the parents were not supposed to hear us eating the cheapest food known to man. To this day our secret has been kept.

It's now somewhere around 15 years later we still get together once a week to talk and pray. Sometimes he has to work in Portland at 8am, so we drink coffee and 6. It hurts, but it's worth it. We don't eat top ramen or saltines, but occasional he'll order a pastry.

All people should be blessed with a friend whom you know will always have your back. It's that person that you can go for a while without talking and the moment you get back together everything is cool and normal and fresh. Everyone needs a friend who can do all those technical things that you can't do and who is willing to take the time to actually do it for you. You've got your hangups, they've got their hangups, and it's still ok. The Brentmeister is one of my best friends and I feel very lucky to be able to say that. Everybody needs a Meister.