I wrote this 4 years ago and have not posted it here yet. It seems to match the season.

There are words I hear in life that are always associated with memories of a person, place, or thing. The word “Pączki” always makes me think of my first real friend, Steven. I am a naturally gregarious person. Today, I can drop into any city in the world, and within hours, I will be in a conversation with strangers. Within days, I will have a new friend, and within weeks, I will have a social circle to pursue nerdy activities with. But that was not always the case. Saying I had difficulty making friends would be an understatement. When I arrived at St. John’s Ukrainian Catholic Elementary School, I was an underweight, lanky ginger who happened to be talkative, clumsy, argumentative, and an insufferable know-it-all. This awkwardness followed me through all of my education, as nerd culture was not what it is today. I was the last pick for anything athletic and had an annoying habit of pointing out when people were wrong. As I mentioned, I am a social person, and while I often hid in books throughout my childhood, I still longed to be part of a tribe. I would not have survived if it weren’t for Steven. Steven Hellner came along during first grade, and we clicked. He was smart like me, and he understood my jokes. We enjoyed the same things; both of us were early and avid readers. We read primarily comics, epic fantasy, and pulp writers, diving into works by Tolkien, Moorcock, Burroughs, and Howard. If asked about comics, we would have both exclaimed, “Make Mine Marvel!” Beyond our shared interests, Steven had social cachet. His mother was the school secretary, his father drove the bus, and he had an older brother who listened to cool music. In short, Steven fit in better than I did but genuinely enjoyed my company—a crazy but life-saving friendship. During our youth, we were inseparable. He was friends with all my siblings, and I was friends with his. I even had a brief crush on his sister, though that quickly passed. We did not attend the same high school, much to the dismay of everyone involved, but that did not separate us. He continued to be my go-to pal until senior year when I started to make new friends and evolve into the social person I was meant to be. But that was okay because he fit in well with my new friends and, after a brief introduction, developed full relationships with them. After high school, we both had a couple of those early pre-career jobs that you kind of do without feeling particularly invested. Mostly, we worked at grocery stores and small fabrication factories. Somehow, we fell into the habit of skipping work two or three years in a row on Pączki Day, which became our unofficial “National Skip Work Day.” That fake holiday outlasted the actual observance. One of those pre-career jobs was one Steven excelled at; he had a much better work ethic than I did, and in short order, he became a responsible member of his team. Then I joined the Army. In a pre-Internet world, that was effectively the death knell of the greatest friendship of my youth. I wish I could say we have reconnected and still keep in touch, but Steven never joined the online world. I hear about what his older brother is up to, but not Steven himself. Every three to five years, I reach out to him, but he is often difficult to reach due to his shift work, or he may be actively hiding—though I hope that is not the case. Happy Pączki Day, Steven, wherever you are.