Brian Miske has been one of my best friends since my Syracuse University days. We caused all kinds of trouble as bouncers at Faegan's Pub and even more living in our Hell's Kitchen apartment when we were in grad school for toy design at F.I.T. -- We used to heckle drug dealers at 4 am with our bull-horn off the 14th floor of our building. We've driven across the country together (he almost killed me falling asleep at the wheel and hitting 15 parking cones and we almost died together in the Grand Canyon) and we've been lifting together for just as long as I have known him. We've both taken very different career paths as we have moved on in life (Brian has a real job) but always stayed very close, supporting each other in the good times and bad. And it's just good to have him coming down and enjoying strongman training with me now. He travels up from New Jersey to play in the yard and swims in the Sound with me though it's October. And the best part is he brings his son, Brendan whom I adore, with him. He's 12 and one of the funniest and brightest kids I know. (See video of the kid's heart in my last post). (When Brendan was three-years-old, I taught him how to say, "Ree-Row, Low Tide!" to warn me when he cuts the cheese, of course he would do this in game stores and public places of all kinds as well; and still does it to this day. We've been laughing together ever since.) (I am such a role-model.) To have such good friends share in your lunacy, and allow his kids to share in it as well, just keeps you young and strong."A man can be known, just by knowing his friends..."
Of course child services might want to have a word with him when they see his kid flipping the 250 pound tire. But they'll have to get through me first. And of course the Child Services people will just wind up flipping tires with us as well...so...
I can only hope you all cherish your friends as I do and have one's worth cherishing. Just another Cap-secret to life and youth and lunacy on this little blue marble. No go lift something! Street-punks. BALLS!
Plus I just wanted you to see my shoulder-hair patch in this photo. His name is Fred.
