You pissed me off, hardcore, and then I had to turn around and make enormous, painful sacrifices for you. It’s good, because you made me like me more.

An Austrian boy with an Irish name. Between a little English a little German and a little Latin, it sort of worked. Sort of. Regardless, it was fun.

I remember you fondly, but I’m afraid that you might have used racist examples in your children’s sermons. Not good. It seems long ago, but it’s not, really.

You were determined to change me and I was determined to resist. You were nice – and right – but missed the point: music is therapy, not scholarship, for me.

You talked me through the darkest moment of my life. I’ll always love you. I still don’t understand how we were friends, but I’m so grateful we were.

You brought light, wisdom and joy to everyone in your life. I’m truly honored to have been your friend. Sometimes I still miss you so much it hurts.

Our friends didn’t get our relationship, but we just knew each other, despite differences. You saw through the walls and had me figured out in about 10 minutes.

You had no interest in teaching and read during our classes. I was bored and didn’t do your assignments. I guess you really do reap what you sow.

Your interruptions annoyed me in 6th grade but your empathetic eyes helped beyond measure in 7th. Thanks for letting me cry in the bathroom instead of your classroom.

You taught me to read directions and enough biology to get through high school. Mostly, I remember the phrase, “It’s not hard, it’s just different.” So true. Thanks.