There are some things that never change, For me, one of those “things” is the relationship i have with George Henry Harding, IV. We have been friends since we first met at our christening in May 1945 at the Lebanon First Methodist Church in Lebanon. i was a year and four months old. Henry was a year and one month old.
We are not alike. Henry is tall, dark, handsome, and still has hair. Me…well, let’s not go there.
i probably spent as much, if not more time at Henry’s home as i did at mine after the age of seven or so, until i left for parts known and unknown when we turned 24.
Henry went to Lebanon High School. i went to Castle Heights Military Academy. We remained close and spent our weekends when not playing football, basketball, baseball together, as well as nights listening to his father’s “party” records of Moms Mabely and Redd Foxx in the front room of his home.
Henry went to the University of Tennessee. I went to Vanderbilt and graduated from Middle Tennessee.
Henry was enlisted Army and an ordance instructor in Maryland. i went to Navy OCS and eventually made the Navy my career.
Henry stilll lives in that house where we played. i have lived in a dozen places, most while being aboard 10 ships that traveled to many places, except Northern Europe and around South America.
We still talk to each other, but now, it is nearly allways by long distance phone calls. Each time, no matter how long in between, it’s like we pick up the conversation where we left off the previous time.
Henry remains a die-hard Tennessee football fan. i continue to be a dyed–in-the-wool Vanderbilt fan. We cheer for our respective teams and enjoy the successes of the other.
Remarkably, we seem to think alike on most subjects, especially politics.
We rag at each other in the most jovial manner.
He is like another brother.
This weekend i initiated a string of emails about the Vanderbilt-Tennessee football game. i expressed my thrill at Vandy’s win but also expressed some sadness that the Vols had to lose.
This exchange went on for several emails. When i closed out, i made the comment that like Waylon Jennings sang, “I’ve always been crazy but it’s kept me from going insane.”
Henry’s reply:
“Too late.”
Not only is he like a brother, he knows me well.