
Hi, everybody, and greetings from upstate New York. It’s a pleasure to finally add my picture and a few words to this wonderful blog.
My name is Ed Goode, and I’ve known Joey since I was twelve. How did I meet him? I met Joey while I was kicking pine-cones one autumn afternoon. I was wiling away the time before a youth-group meeting, imagining the pine-cones were footballs, knocking in field-goal after game-winning field-goal. Suddenly, Joey appeared out of nowhere. He introduced himself (”You may have heard of me around here, my name is Joey Barrentine”), and then, for reasons that defy easy explanation, he proceeded to criticize my kicking technique. “You call that kicking?” he groaned. “You’d never make it a day if you were a kicker on a real football team.” Joey volunteered to give me an impromptu lesson, and for the next five minutes, he drilled me on how to properly split the uprights while avoiding an onslaught of enemy players. Joey was clearly older and bigger than I was, so I hadn’t asked where he had acquired his authority on football, much less field-goals. But I was curious. Was he a kicker himself? No, he said. Was he on the football team? Not really, he admitted. So where did his expertise come from? Well, he said proudly, on the junior high school football team, he had once been the team manager (read: equipment manager).
And so it began. The experience got us talking, and talking invariably got us laughing. Joey and I were in the same youth-group at our church on McChord Air Force Base (with Sean Kenney, by the way, whom you’ll also find with his beautiful family on this blog). One of our better ideas, which never came to fruition, was to rent out the localwater-park, “Wild Waves,” and offer a water-park -baptism extravaganza. Personally, I was intrigued by the prospect of turning all the water into holy water, but I think Joey preferred the idea of receiving a sacrament while hurtling down the Rampage Bonzai Giant Waterslide. We also coined the slogan, “God Is Our Co-Pilot” (the adult supervisor wanted “God Is Our Pilot,” but Joey and I were pretty committed to the notion of free-will), and somewhere along the way we both learned to be our brother’s keeper. In those years, Joey would introduce me to people as “the little brother that I never wanted,” and I would insist that we were actually twins (which, if you look at our pictures, is a no-brainer). Our friendship is now in its third decade, and I’d like to think that are joined at that place where best friends become family. In fact, without Joey’s soulful, steadfast, and deeply humane example to observe and enjoy all these years, I doubt I would know what “friend” or “family” truly meant. God knows that I wouldn’t know how to properly kick a pine-cone.
Joey has asked me to be his Best Man, which is an honor and privilege that I’ll do my best to deserve. In the meantime, keep in mind that I’m a good resource if you need some answers about Joey (boxers not briefs, pistols at dawn, Bruce Springsteen, etc.), the wedding, or his family and friends. You can reach me at erg22@cornell.edu.