One of my good buddies is fond of saying that there are three types of friends:

Old friends are those with whom we share a past. Good friends are those with whom we share a present. And best friends are those with whom we share a future.

An astute observation for an ex-insurance man turned contractor.

I see no reason why someone must be monogamous when it comes to best friends. This is especially true when you consider the above definition. If, in fact, a best friend is someone with whom you share a future, then I have many best friends indeed, and in most cases, they are good friends with each other.

Still, my life has not been without loss. For the longest time, my earliest and perhaps first best friend has been missing from my life.

We were friends from the third grade up until my junior year. He occupies nearly every memory I have until the age of 17. Then, sometime in my senior year, we drifted apart. I don't know why it happened, it just did. I blamed him for the longest time, but the truth is, I changed, too. We each found new friends and went on to lead productive lives. (That is what we adults are supposed to be — productive. I don't know exactly what that means, but I have been told repeatedly that I am.)

Then, a few years ago, on the verge of our 20th high school reunion, I got an e-mail from him. Several phone calls followed. We talked about the past and the good times we shared. We talked about our families and the time between our youth and our adulthood.

Then somewhere along the line, we started talking about the future and our hopes and dreams.

We have kept in touch since the reunion; he lives in Colorado, is married and has three kids. Last year, he came home to the Islands with his daughter who was in an all-star volleyball tournament. I secretly hoped that UH would recruit her. If she were a Rainbow Wahine then he would fly down more regularly, but no such luck.

About two months ago, he e-mailed me and said that he had two tickets for a Rush concert at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre and wanted me to join him. I discussed it with my wife and daughter, and we agreed that I would fly to Denver to spend time with my old friend. We also decided that my wife and daughter would join me.

I am my own person, but I am so much more. I am part of a family and so is he. I am excited about our families connecting for the first time while he and I reconnect yet again.

We have our itinerary planned out: We will visit some amusement parks for the kids; the Rocky Mountains for my nature-loving wife and blue-ribbon trout streams for he and I. Then of course, there is the concert.

Somehow, I get the distinct impression that the Red Rocks Amphitheatre will serve as the backdrop and the music of Rush will serve as the soundtrack for a renewed friendship; not just old friends anymore, not just good friends, but best friends once again. Our future looks every bit as bright as our past.

Michael C. DeMattos is a member of the faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. Born and raised on the Wai'anae Coast, he now lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter, two dogs and two mice.