I don’t think I’ve had a best friend since my days at Mountain Park Elementary School.  Even then, those friendships changed with the phases of the moon.  

When I was an RA in college, those of us who made up the James Rowe contingent (Barrett Hall, Landrum Hall, Chandler Hall and parts of Jefferson) spent inordinate amounts of time together.  Tasked with keeping peace amongst and between the residents of various ages, backgrounds, and genders, we formed an immediate, tightly knit bond often found between siblings and survivors of natural disasters.  

There were hall programs (and drinking), hall meetings (and drinking), RA meetings, RA duty office hours, and doing rounds (of dorm security, not shots).  We helped each other out. Pitched in when needed. Watched backs when asked. Kept tabs on our respective residents and on each other.  KSC, BB Kray, Chris, Cat McC, and Old Dirty Weissman (who was only an RA by virtue of his roommate status) unknowingly taught me the value of a best friend. So those of you that them, that readily and easily call upon them, the next time you are with your BFFs, sing them this little song. . .

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