DUMPING FRIENDS
I Wouldn’t Wish Me On My Worst Best Friend
Breaking up with friends is hard to do
There’s a tree in Maine that bears the following words:
“Phil And Phil”
One of the Phils stands for my middle name, which is Philip. The other Phil stands for Phil, the little brother of James, who was my brother’s best friend in those days.
“I have an idea,” people said. “You younger brothers should be friends too.” Obviously, people said this because of our older brothers’ friendship and because of the Phil thing.
“Listen, people,” I said, “shouldn’t friendships be based on more than coincidences?”
“No,” said the people. “This is a small town and broke. Coincidences are all we have for you. Be grateful.”
So, Phil and I tried friendship. We started off big by turning ourselves into a club:
The Phil-And-Phil
Though Phil was younger and smaller than me, he shrewdly rose to my level, liking the things I liked:
- Raiders of the Lost Ark
- Monsters
- Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
- Pyramids
- Indiana Jones and the…
