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Every once in a while I get the urge to get in touch with my old college roommates and friends, to let them know I turned out ok. I get so wrapped up in this single-minded purpose that I forget to wonder how they are doing. My living has afforded me a wonderful home and a family well provided for.

When I left school, I hardly had a friend left. My money and luck had run out. I'd dropped out of my second fraternity and had nowhere to live. I was sneaking into the dining hall and using anyone's guest pass that had any left, and was sleeping on the floor underneath the bed in Kevin's dorm room. I couldn't give up. To do so would mean going home to Dad again. That I couldn't have. But finally there was no choice.

I found Kevin on classmates.com and wrote him a message. He wrote back a couple weeks later and gave me his number. When I called, nobody answered. I tried again. And again. Finally I was forced to accept that he changed his mind, and so I stopped trying.

But I did write one more email.

I want to thank you Kevin for taking me under your wing at college. Mostly though, I just wanted the chance to say I'm sorry. Sorry for taking advantage of my friends, for being a drunk, a bull in a china shop. It's embarrassing to think back on the person that I was. But I was a boy, much younger than my years. I've come a long way, and have made something of myself. You won't see my face on the cover of Forbes--more likely on Better Homes and Gardens perhaps--but I'm happy and living responsibly. Thanks for helping me through that rough transitional patch of life. You will always be fondly remembered as a part of the solution.