Great Days: It was August of 1990 and I packed up 1/3 of a shared van, abandoned my scooter and headed east to NY with no job and no place locked down to lay my head. By the time I drove across the GWB I had arranged to crash on the couch of a former girlfriend. She had recently left a boyfriend behind at NU (but no break up) and I didn’t read any more into the offer than simple Good Samaritan charity. I was so charmingly naive.
As good fortune would have it, there was an NU alumni event a few days later and I ran into fellow Fiji Hunter Smith. We were friends, but not great friends. Gridiron rivals with identical stadiums in Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, Republican and Presbyterian, but not super tight. The evening included more than a few beers, and upon returning to my host’s apartment she said she wanted to have a “conversation”. Six minutes later I had dialed Hunter and our entire conversation was:
Dave: Dude, she just told me we had some open issues to discuss.
Hunter: My brother. Pack up your shit and get over here.”
It was the single greatest “no look” support I have ever experienced. No questions, no time limits, no mockery (that would come later), just “I’m your safety net”. It was one part Fiji fraternity “not for college days alone” and ten parts the incredible character of Hunter C Smith. I crashed on his too-tiny couch for six weeks until I found my own place and we had a blast. In the mornings I would play the song-of-the-day and he would call it crap because it wasn’t Coltrane or Monk…and when he came home that night he’d be singing “that girl is poison…never trust a big butt and a smile”. Best “no look” support ever.
Twenty-seven years later we remain the greatest of friends. I cut down a Christmas tree with him family this year.