Eller is Engaged

Over the years, we tend to develop all different kinds of friendships.  There are toddler play date friends, summer camp friends, high school hangout friends, off at college alone friends, work friends, and then, of course, our-kids-are-friends-so-I-guess-we’ll-be-friends-friends.

So I guess, in the end, it’s not the sheer presence of so many friends which is amazing.  Rather, it’s in the rare case when a friend passes through a handful or more of the friend categories and graduates to a simpler existence - as a best friend.
In my life, I’ve been lucky enough to have a few of these guys in my life (and one girl…who’s asleep on the couch right now!)

One such friend is my great buddy Michael Eller.

Eller and I have known each other since kindergarten.  Having grown up in the same school system, we were in each other’s classes on plenty of occasions and quite literally grew up together. 

It’d be impossible for me to convey more than 20 years of history in a simple blog post.  This would certainly be true for any normal guy, and most definitely the case for Eller.  To do so would require me to launch into a litany of stories from the past.  And though this is certainly a favorite pastime and there is plenty of fodder for hours of entertainment, where would I start?  I’d have to talk about the time he won the 4th grade hurdle race at Field Day or how we would challenge our entire class (2 vs. 15+) in soccer games on the playground in 3rd grade.  About how Eller is one of the most genuinely caring and sincere people on the planet - a fitting description for the “Most Dependable” senior in the Western Guilford Class of 2000 (as voted by his peers). 

Of course, there would have to be time for a bit of ribbing at my good friend’s expense - for if best friends are good for anything, it’s taking a good-natured ribbing.  I’d have to talk about his epic (and atrocious) beards, off-the-wall theories about life, and undying devotion to all manner of boy bands and other purveyors of pop music drivel.

We’ve already dragged on too long, and we’re not yet to the main point of the story.  I should summarize by saying that Eller is different than any other friend I have in the world.  Not different in a bad way.  Not that at all. 

Unique.  One-of-a-kind.  Eller. 

A few years ago Eller moved to Los Angeles, driving flat across the country in his Nissan Pathfinder with a singular motive to somehow fulfill his dream of making it into the television business.  I’ve enjoyed living vicariously through Eller during his career journey - his years slaving away at the desk of an agent which helped lead to his current role working for a company which develops ideas for TV programs for major networks.  We’ll catch up often over the phone to catch up on life, covering the usuals of work, family, and (in the case of Eller), his dating life (or lack thereof at times).

A little over a year ago, during one of the conversations, Eller told me he’d met an amazing girl at a meeting of a group from his church.  He’d only just met her but he described in detail how she had caught his eye immediately a few nights earlier when she had refused to back down from her opinion during a discussion.  He said she was spunky and sharp and, most of all, unique.  She sounded great, I said.  And in my head I thought even more - she sounded like Eller.

I was excited when he told me that he asked this mystery girl out and that they went on dates and she was just as fantastic as he first hoped she’d be.   Things were going well, he said. 

And then they weren’t. 

She decided it wasn’t the right fit, or it was her and not him or something that someone says when they’re not sure why but they know it’s not working.  My heart hurt for Eller, but he took it better than could be expected.  By this point I had learned that this mystery girl was named Kristine.  Unfortunately, it looked like Eller and Kristine were not to be. 

At least that’s the way it seemed.  After a few weeks Eller and Kristine had gone back to being friends and hanging out in groups again.  It was on a Sunday a year ago that Kristine called Eller and said she needed to come over and talk.  She did just that, and said that she was afraid she’d made a horrible mistake and that she knew there was a chance he’d already written her off but she just had to tell him that something inside her would never rest until she told him that she really really liked him.  And if he was up for it, she would love to try once again to see what dating would be like.

By the time Eller relayed the story to me the next day, his mind was already made up.  Not more than a day or two more passed when they went on their first date of Eller & Kristine, part 2.0.  It was the first of many.  This time, it turns out, they worked.

I could tell things were getting serious in the summer and decided I needed to meet this girl.  So I scheduled a trip out to California during the fall to hang out with Eller and Greg and, ostensibly, to meet their respective girlfriends.  During our weekend together, I saw with my own eyes the way the relationship had blossomed and the obvious depth of feelings they felt for each other.  When I returned to New York, I tried to describe Kristine to Tracy.  She’s different, I said.  Not different in a bad way.  Not that at all. Unique. 

Just like Eller.

I was not surprised, then, in early 2010 when I got a slew of excited emails and calls from Eller in which he let me know that he was ready.  She was the one, and he was ready to put the plans in motion to make it official.  I was ecstatic to hear the news and even more elated to learn he wanted to do it in New York.

Over the course of a couple months, with the help of a couple shared Google documents, Eller devised his elaborate plan with a fervor and energy that was so familiar.  In addition to securing the ring and the consent of her dad, Eller also went to great lengths to plan the surprise trip - negotiating vacation days with both bosses, travel arrangements and surprises upon arrival. 

In the end, the planning was secondary to the events of the weekend themselves - Kristine was in the office per usual on Friday morning when her man walked in and told her he needed her to collect her stuff and leave.  After a little convincing, Kristine made her way to the parking deck, where her brother awaited to chauffeur the twosome to LAX.  With packed bag in the trunk, Eller fed a few lines here and there to keep the suspense going.  It wasn’t until the ticket kiosk that Kristine found out the destination.

After a fun dinner at TAO on Friday night, Eller arranged for a perfect surprise on Saturday morning.  One of Kristine’s best friends, who lives on Long Island, came into the city for a morning of shopping, pampering, and fun.  While the girls played, Eller and I scoped out the perfect spot in Central Park for the big question.  In normal conditions, this would be a cinch; in sub-40 degree temperatures, 30 mph gusting winds and driving rain which mostly came in sideways, things were decidedly harder to maneuver.  Ever the optimist, Eller was undeterred.  We found the perfect spot in the Naumberg Bandshell in the southern portion of the park.

The plan was set and all that remained was the actual event to take place.  Around 2:30 p.m. I got a simple text from Eller that said “It’s Go Time”.  I made my way from the apartment to the 72nd street transverse and the bridge overlooking the famous fountain.  My role was to attempt to document the occasion with pictures and perhaps video.  The idea was to blend into the crowds and snap away.  The only problem with this plan was the aforementioned hurricane-esque conditions, which rendered the Park as veritable ghost town.  So as I stood on the bridge waiting, I was forced to hide for cover. 

And then I saw them.  I tracked them across the piazza and caught some shots from behind as they made their way up the stairs for a solitary walk through The Mall and Literary Walk.  With nary another in sight (an absolute shock in the Park) Eller guided her to the planned upon spot.  I bounced around behind tree to tree, keeping my distance and trying to take in the moment. 

After a few moments, Eller was on one knee.  Only the two of them know the words shared in that moment.  It was an absolutely serene and perfect moment, thanks in full to the driving storm raging above.  After a short pause I heard only a shriek of excitement, saw an embrace, and felt a surge of joy.

Eller was engaged. 

Later, we would hear over a celebratory dinner about the many details, both major and minor, of the relationship to date and the day which has just passed.  There were smiles all around and the euphoric glow of two seemingly filled the room.  I found myself taking it all in but at the same time harkening back to the memories throughout the years.  Memories of the playground and dorm rooms and long conversations about how our lives would turn out.  Never did we imagine that we’d share in a moment like this.

How could we ever imagine something so perfect?