Massless

In quieter times, I think often of two gentleman I've met - and of their extraordinary lives and the remarkable occasion of their meeting.

Of them, Giggle is the obvious hero. He is fair, sandy-haired and idealistic; the fortunate son of privileged parents. As athletic as he is handsome, he is renowned for his strength and speed. His is a persuasive charisma - even his detractors have to grudgingly acknowledge his singular grace and skill. In his circle of friends, and far as I can remember, he was the Sun that every Icarus wanted to touch.

In a crowd, Boggle becomes a mirror: a compelling series of tics, apprehensions, yearnings, triumphs, and disappointments.

Giggle always liked his silly name; he thought it humanizing - and his humor tended toward the lightly self-deprecating. He could make funny voices or wear funny glasses as any occasion warranted. A "people person" as they say - and as people like to be liked - his friendliness was often reciprocated.

He is also, rich. And getting richer. Luck? Skill? No, no, look to someone else for that analysis - as a rule I don't dissect my friends' finances in public. Suffice to say, success begets success.

Yang to Yin. My other friend, Boggle, is the dark prince. He was born in fields, alongside thresher and plow. His parents have a murky past; theatrical, painful, and passionate. They divorced, publicly and with some rancor. So unlike Giggle, he was born amid strife: and to this day his pedigree attracts harsh rebukes where otherwise focused criticism may have won out.

Boggle is an entertainer. A storyteller, generally. I have watched countless numbers reach out and find themselves in his work. He speaks to people in their vernacular - easy and freely - and they, in turn, speak to others. His jokes becomes theirs, his stories become their stories. In a crowd, Boggle becomes a mirror: a compelling series of tics, apprehensions, yearnings, triumphs, and disappointments. The result of his work makes fascinating art; the creation of a great emotional collage.

One wintery day: my two friends met. And they talked easily. Laughed some. And shook hands.

One thing I noticed as I watched Giggle. It was just another day. Just the same amount of crinkle to his smile, his grip was as firm - no more, no less. They were well met, and he was content.

Boggle released his grip from the handshake. And it changed his entire life.

How? What happens next?

Well...that's what I think of, too, I shouldn't wonder.