I Walk Tall

Those that know me well would probably not be surprised by this, though this may surprise many others.

I have a really healthy sense of my own self. The perspective some may have is that it borderlines on being full of myself, which I really do make a conscious effort not to do, to varying degrees of success and failure.

In some ways, I live in a fairy tale world where I am the center of it, and my view of it as well as my view of my place in it is perhaps slightly different than reality. I can own that and appreciate it.

Many of my friends are taller than me, some significantly taller than me. But for some reason, I simply cannot see it. I’m 5’9″ on a heathy day, especially if the wind’s not blowing. My buddy Garrett thinks I’m a little person; he’s actually told me so. I think he’s 6’3″ but to me he has always looked about eye level to me. My buddy Derek is 6 feet and I cannot for the life of me figure out how he looks taller than me in our pictures. Just the other day, I was out with my buddy Fergus. I think he’s 6’3” and I swear our shoulders line up. He’s Irish and there’s something about his brogue that even when he’s insulting me, I laugh. Apparently, I am short.

My friends Ryan and Gordon are 6’4” and 6’5” and I’m fairly certain they are taller than me; though I cannot be absolutely sure. The only person I think truly is taller than me and gets no argument from me is my buddy Aminu. He’s 6’9″ played college ball under Coach Pitino at the University of Kentucky and let’s face it, I would have to be delirious to think he and I used different rulers.