When the state of Massachusetts first approached me, through their representative Robert Thomas Stamm, in the form of You know, that Zac Glaser kid is actually pretty cool, I responded inasmuch for dramatic effect as surprise, to roll down the street backwards on my rollerblades with a fixed incredulous look upon my face.

…that Zac Glaser kid is actually pretty cool… and yet the seed was planted.

Through a series of events, which I presumed at the time were happenstance, thanks to invitations from other state representatives, such as Russell Samuel Levine, I found myself attending mutual gatherings with our case study of interest, Zac.

And then fate dealt a deciding hand. From Zac, a fart. From me, a hilariously childish response.

A bond was formed.

Formally dedicated, according to process and ritual, the State of Massachusetts thereby assigned to me case Z, Zac Glaser, as best friend.

Under my reign, I was lucky to be introduced to another representative of the state, well known amongst his peers for his charismatic jeering, the coined fun equalizer, Thomas Andrew Coulson. Through him I received some profoundly clarifying information, as he divulged his recollection of the Fandango Incident – an adventure in literacy. Suffice it to say, the story helped elucidate the mystery behind the spelling of Zac without an ‘h’ or a ‘k’.

Another personal incident I have been more than happy to share, as many of you will attest, is the one in which Zac landed a sound and fitting nickname – Dirty. It happened during one of our regular therapy sessions. In particular, as Zac fawned at yet another one of his Madden Franchise Drafts, he proceeded to lean over, pick up one of my dirty socks, and blow his nose – upon immediately being confronted, claiming that he thought it was one of his brother’s, as if that properly defends his position. Dirty. Period. Session over.

Now many of you, sitting there with too much booze in your blood and not enough sleep under your eyes, are losing both interest and focus as I recount incredibly specific and exclusive memories of case Z. Fair. But please bear with me, for this is both intentional and foreshadowing, as I attempt to paint a characteristic portrait of hurricane Zac. The less you understand – amidst the chaos – the more you may begin to see.

Let me grace you with another exclusive story.

Back when us boys transitioned to become men, I led, originally as an independent study but consequently a formal group effort, a competition under the label Mission for non-emission. Not only did Zac seal his name in the archives of history by winning this competition, but he also earned my respect. It was only then that I began to see the calm and resolute fortitude at the center of this messy storm. Yes, ironically, it was his very immaturity that revealed to me a depth of maturity so raw and untapped amidst the chaos.

I want to make something very clear, to the unaware – Zac and I had countless therapy sessions. Sure, they took many forms – Halo, Call of Duty, FIFA, to name a few. But the reality is, as I was fortunate to discover upon reflection of these more formidable years, that he was as much an influence on me as I was on him, and possibly even much more.

I would argue further, that many state representatives previously mentioned, of those here today as well as those long forgotten, were tangentially enriched in spirit through our unique relationship. With me, case Z created a hospitable center, the very manifestation of that early glimpse into the heart of the storm, where in the eye we all found ourselves safe, secure, and loved.

I hope my character portrait is beginning to take shape.

For those attentive listeners, particularly of this afternoons homily, you may connect that where there is an outflowing of friendship and love, there must be a cost. To purchase fun and camaraderie required a perilous journey through the storm. And there was always risk of falling out of the eye.

With Zac: fun, at a cost of chaos. He was a vendor of sorts.

Now this is just half of the story. Our young vendor, case Z, naturally immature in his youth, was bound to grow up. And so I presented the state with my formal report. No other image spoke so well of my experience as this:

Let me preface, by saying that this was a point of pain and contention in our relationship. Now, I firmly believed, that if I was hanging on the edge of a cliff for dear life, and by my side an anonymous maiden was likewise hanging, but in her fortunate case above a visible ledge in which she is surely secure, Zac, presented with the occasion, would, without hesitation, lend a helping hand to the maiden as I plummeted to my gory death.

Alas, our historic gold medalist in the Mission for non-emission was becoming a man after all. Fast forward many years. The storm was growing to unruly proportion, and our once lil’ vendor at the center wasn’t so little anymore.

After college, the state finally gave up and approached me, privately, to discuss the option of offloading case Z to local jurisdiction. Now this was an unprecedented concept, but thanks to some new libertarian laws, we were able to call in some outside help from the state of New York.

Enter Danaé. Striking. Beautiful. Intentional; with conviction.

Due to incredible tact on our part, if I may boast, Zac and Danaé met through grade school, where Danaé was practicing her cover job as an english teacher. Zac, again attempting to pass middle school gym class, was under the watch of one of our most proficiently trained agents, Jason Lauring Arnold. Knowing Zac’s propensity for striking beauty, we expertly placed Danaé to teach at the same school, and well, the rest is history. Suddenly case Z, the dirty hurricane, our precious lil’ vendor, was no longer a state issue, but rather a local one.

Now Danaé is, and I believe always will be, beyond an expert in this space. Upon my first checkup with her and case Z, she immediately pacified any of my anxieties with the presentment of a lovely mint julep, made with home grown mint. Locally sourced, indeed! She was embracing the unique circumstances of the case head on. And trust me, it was truly Zac that she was winning over. Even through his tyranny of chaos and destruction she was continually finding ways into his heart, through his stomach, with incredible home grown and locally sourced meals.

I am proud to say, without an inkling of doubt in my mind, that through the therapy and careful attention under her local jurisdiction, Zac’s storm has been receding, while his center grows. The center, I might add, is as hospitable and loving as ever.

I even received, fairly recently, as a school exercise, a text from Zac about all the qualities he admired most about me. It cut at my soul. I was undone. Surely this was the product of Danaé’s constant heartwarming influence.

If you’re still with me, I hope you can see the picture I’ve been attempting to paint, that our once lil’ state vendor, has surely grown up, and, thanks to Danaé, transformed into a local vendor of sorts.

Further, Zac, being the alpha male that he so often strives to be, certainly has been, if I may be so cheeky, a local vendor of broccoli. For case studies show that broccoli can increase the measure of testosterone in the body.

But thanks to Danaé, and certainly in lieu of the formal commitment she has pronounced as his eternal caretaker today, in particular once the post reception ritual of consummating the marriage is performed, a predicted 7 to 11 minute occasion, I think we will all agree:

The Local Vendor is out of Broccoli, loccoli.