My Friend Harry

I spent tonight hanging out with a childhood friend of mine, Harry Baird.



Harry moved south of our home on Camano Island, when I was about 10 years old. We became fast friends.

We fished at the beach below our house together. Harry taught me how to dig for sand-shrimp and catch flounders and perch from the drop off.

Harry played with me on the little league baseball team my dad was a coach of, Twin City. He remembers a time when he was frustrated because he had missed a ball, so he threw his mitt down in anger. My dad had run out to Harry, got in his face, and said, "Young man; we don't do that on this team."

Harry and I explored the island together, got into some trouble together, played sports together, fished together, had "wars" in the woods with our friends. After highschool our life drifted apart. But at some deep level of friendship and love and memories we share a powerful bond.

Yesterday, I got to meet Harry's wife, Maria, at the Stanwood Starbucks. And, tonight, Harry came out to Mom and Dads, we had dinner together, talked about the "glory days" then went down and fished of the point below my parents house.

Harry caught two small salmon, and lost a bigger fish. He thinks it was a Dolly Varden. I didn't have any luck; I'm chalking that up to my lure.

It was a sweet time reconnecting, and learning that we both share a passion and calling for reaching into hurting young people's lives and challenging, encouraging, and nurturing them.

I'm thankful for my old and true friend Harry!!!