My Friend Clint Rule

I recently returned from the wedding of one Clint Rule and Nicole Powell. They got married August 6th in Edmond, Oklahoma somewhere between one and two o'clock. And as I reflect on the event, my heart gradually swells with happiness and sorrow. You could even say it ebbs and flows with joy and sadness, though I'm not too sure what ebbing means. The ontology of our relationship has changed. A radical shift has occurred. And it is a beautiful thing. A wonderful thing to be thankful for. But the very shift is an ever present reminder that the chapter of our lives where we happened to overlap is now closed. And while there is much reason for celebration about the future, about a life reveled in the wonders of matrimony, there is also much reason to reminisce, to reflect, and to mourn. And to that end I dedicate this blog. To the memories of a single Clint. To the man who was once a member of adolescence. To the man who logged 76 straight hours of conscienceness for the sake of personal experiment. To the man who has stolen my heart. So raise your glasses with me as we explore the man himself, my friend Clint Rule.

Clint Elliot Rule emerged from the dust hole of Elk City, a strange blip on the radar of Western Oklahoma. It was there that his social apathy and surpassed intellect drove him to the uncharted waters of cyberspace. He mastered the internet, enjoying what he grew to understand as the golden era of pirating music, movies, television shows, and anything else you could desire with just a simple download away. I first walked into his dorm room as a junior. He was a freshman. As we acquainted ourselves with each other, I studied his bookshelf, the posters on his wall, and his stacks of CD cases labeled "Seinfeld." A bit confused I asked, "What are all those Seinfeld CDs?" "Episodes," he responded. I was blown away. A huge Seinfeld fan myself, I thought I had mastered the art of gathering them by recording them on VHS tapes, complete with commercials and all. "But how?" "The internet." It was then I knew that we would be great friends. Well, either that or I knew I had to glean everything I could from his brain.

He stood out on the hall for the simple fact that he wore tight, Wrangler bluejeans (has anyone seen Clint wearing anything else?), ratty Thrift store Ts and had rumors hovering around him that he smoked marijuana, courtesy of Steve Harrington. Therefore, I'm not quite sure how we developed our friendship. He was always tucked away in his dorm room, downloading things, typing away on Instant Messenger, listening to obscure music I had never heard of before. Come to think of it, how did he get to know anyone? His schedule nearly overlapped everyone's in those days because he would stay up till breakfast and sleep the day away while the rest of the world conducted business. There were those memorable occasions when he and Russ Edwards played video games through the night and enjoyed breakfast together in the cafeteria when it opened at 7 am.

In time his dorm room became a little haven for the hall. It was dark and cluttered, but cozy and intimate. And it had a couch. And blinds that he hung up over his bottom bunk to guard the invading sunlight. And it smelled funny. It was in that room that he introduced our inexperienced minds to "films." I still remember seeing Requiem for a Dream sitting on that couch of his. And I still have nightmares about that film. He showed us how to record music. He taught us how to evaluate movies. He introduced us to new bands and innovative music. It was in this way that he cultured all of us. Jones House Dormitory became the canvas that he painted, showing all of us a glimpse into our culture and into a reality we had never experienced. And his tutelage was in the little things. Little, strange things I observed from him. The simple idea of carrying around a thought journal. The forgotten genious of using pencils (they have erasers). The brilliance of a little mousse in the hair to make it "crunchy," as he called it.

The Dorm years were an amazing time for me. My relationship with Clint grew and strengthened with such silly and stupid events. We raided Norman for free pizza together. We attacked fraternities with water balloons and carried out a 15-man toilet paper heist on a sorority together. We lounged in hot tubs with Taco Bell while it was snowing. We performed on stages together in front of hundreds and thousands. We've chunked water balloons at cows before. I've seen him through E. coli poisoning, a busted head, a broken heart, below freezing rivers, Blake's unbearable snoring, two full length albums, uncountable regrettable nights, and the time he puiked immediately after kissing a girl. I shared a room with him at the infamous Crested Butte where we watched Seinfeld and Family Guy in our beds together with sack fulls of Taco Bell every night. There were several nights where he actually read me to sleep from the book of John (not lying).

He's Clint Rule. He eats very slowly. He was very hostile in the first book discussion group I led. He eats frozen fish sticks and corndogs. He is committed to truth, love and service. He knows how to enjoy himself. He has consumed more allergy medicine than he has milkshakes. And now he is married. And so in sad way the Clint we have all known is gone forever. It will be a rare day indeed that I throw another water balloon at a cow or a frat guy with him. I will most likely never steal and roll a pumpkin with him racing down country roads in his Volkswagen van at 60 mph again. I will probably never step foot into the slaughterhouse with him hiding on the second floor. But in a strange way, that is probably a good thing. And we all look forward to getting to know Married Clint. A Clint that will pay bills. A Clint that will be known as "husband" and someday "father." A Clint that will mow the grass and clean the gutters and change the oil and take out the trash and use words like "mortgage" and "insurance" and "rates." This is the Clint that I very much look forward to getting to know. And if I have that privilege 30 years from now, I will be greatly blessed.

Nicole, I hope you like Taco Bell.