When I was 12 years old I used to spend every weekend at Anson’s house. I still remember the time I hit a fly ball (or had I pitched it?) into one of the enormous 90 year old windows on the top floor, or the time his sister locked us into the shed. We used to watch old John Wayne movies in the basement or glowing dust particles filter through sunlight in the library on winter afternoons as we designed our next contraptions, planned our next adventures, and buried every secret. We were still fully children then, shooting pellet guns at milk jugs filled with water and red food colouring, fighting at the hockey pond with tightly balled fists. The world belonged to us, and we had no idea.
In life, love, and business (war and crime too, I’m told), partners make every difference. It frustrates me sometimes that it’s so difficult to create anything of lasting value when you’re working alone, because it’s hard and scary to depend on people. But it’s impossible to convince a thousand people to love and believe in you and what you do if you can’t even convince one or two. Besides, the low points and the high points of life (including business, if that’s your thing) are made to be shared. So, to anyone who’s ever been my partner in crime: thank you. To those that are still around: thanks even more, and you’re crazy.