There's a reason why it's called the "Ninth"
I've known Alex Scokel since the 5th grade.
For my 11th birthday, he gave me a styrofoam Star Trek: The Next Generation Enterprise-D glider. My younger brother later took a bite out of the saucer part.
For a few weeks in middle school band, Alex and I sat together as middling trombones and got into a lot of trouble for talking, until we had chair tryouts again and I came in last chair.
When I went to high school, Alex, Brian, and Michael Felix were pretty much my only friends in the world, since everyone else from middle school went to a different school. Alex can tell you embarrasing marching band stories about bus rides back from football games, and I can tell embarassing stories about glitter eye make up and hopeless crushes, and we can both tell stories about arguing about the nature of time in the bleachers instead of watching the game.
During our first year of college, I would drive from Montevallo to Birmingham Southern at least three times a week to hang out with him. Not for anything especially interesting, just to hang out with him.
To this day, Alex remains the only friend with whom I have ever formally broken up with, much less formally broken up with dozens of times.
Alex broke my heart when he moved to Chapel Hill, but it seemed good for him.
Alex broke my heart when he moved to Chicago, but that's definately good for him.
Happy Birthday, Paul Alexander Scokel. May the winds of a thousand seagulls blow good cheer across the bow of the ship of the heart of your life in this, the year of Our Lord 24.
For my 11th birthday, he gave me a styrofoam Star Trek: The Next Generation Enterprise-D glider. My younger brother later took a bite out of the saucer part.
For a few weeks in middle school band, Alex and I sat together as middling trombones and got into a lot of trouble for talking, until we had chair tryouts again and I came in last chair.
When I went to high school, Alex, Brian, and Michael Felix were pretty much my only friends in the world, since everyone else from middle school went to a different school. Alex can tell you embarrasing marching band stories about bus rides back from football games, and I can tell embarassing stories about glitter eye make up and hopeless crushes, and we can both tell stories about arguing about the nature of time in the bleachers instead of watching the game.
During our first year of college, I would drive from Montevallo to Birmingham Southern at least three times a week to hang out with him. Not for anything especially interesting, just to hang out with him.
To this day, Alex remains the only friend with whom I have ever formally broken up with, much less formally broken up with dozens of times.
Alex broke my heart when he moved to Chapel Hill, but it seemed good for him.
Alex broke my heart when he moved to Chicago, but that's definately good for him.
Happy Birthday, Paul Alexander Scokel. May the winds of a thousand seagulls blow good cheer across the bow of the ship of the heart of your life in this, the year of Our Lord 24.