The Voluntourist -- A Must Read

Ken Budd is my friend, brother, college roommate, frequent Springsteen concert date, GMU season ticket partner--one of my dearest friends over the last 26 years (wow).

He has been writing for years, but is about to publish a fantastic book; The Voluntourist: A Six-Country Tale of Love, Loss, Fatherhood, Fate, and Singing Bon Jovi in Bethlehem.

I was privileged to read much of it as Ken wrote it, and was blown away by his honesty, insight and humor.

Ken's writing is usually very funny, but it is amazing how his story quickly turns and touches you deeply. I'll do a formal review soon, but want to just share a little about Ken today.

He tells the story of how we first met in his book; but I'll share my version here...

I was in my second semester of college at George Mason University, and was placed in an apartment with Ken. We had never met, and he was already living there when I moved in.

I first showed up about 8 in the morning; Ken was still asleep. One of the first things I noticed were the liquor bottles on the kitchen table. I was a new Christian, recently out of the Army. I went from being  someone who drank A LOT to complete alcohol abstinence (it didn't last long).

I unloaded a few of my belongings and went to class. When I came back, Ken was gone, off to class himself.

I continued to move in and unpack.

When Ken and I finally connected, we talked a little bit. Both of us seemed unsure of the other.

A couple nights after I moved in, Ken got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. He had drunk quite a bit, and fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

I needed to use the bathroom, and wondered what the hell was taking him so long. I finally knocked on the door. I heard him sort of grunt, then he got up and opened the door.

"Sorry about that," he said, and went back to bed.

We have often joked in the years since how we first perceived one another.

When I finally got all moved in, he looked around at my side of the room--shoes all lined up under my bed, bed perfectly made, Jesus posters all over the room--and thought, "My God, my roommate is an anal-retentive, militaristic Jesus Freak."

I looked at the alcohol bottles, bathroom passing-out, and nocturnal schedule and thought, "My God, my roommate is a lazy, late-night party animal well down the road to alcoholism."

We were both wrong. We quickly became close friends and had a great time together in college--late night 7-11 runs for big gulps and cookies...hours watching Letterman when we should have been studying...getting a glimpse of being a minority when we were the only white people in a Literature of Black America class...lots of concerts including Springsteen, U2, Hank Williams Jr., Randy Travis, The Monkees, and many more...late night tennis games and field-goal kicking contests...

We stayed close even when I left for Texas for ten years, and picked right back up when I moved back, going to GMU games and conference tournaments for the past ten years.

We were in each other's weddings, and were there for each other when we both lost our fathers a year apart.

Ken is strong but soft-spoken, very bright, witty, and has a huge heart. Ken and I lived together for a couple years, and have been friends for decades, yet have never had an argument--because Ken is by far the most easy-going guy I've ever known.

I am a better man because he is my friend and has always supported and encouraged me.

But I also love him enough to be honest. If his book stunk, I'd tell him (gently, of course). But it doesn't. Ken is a great writer, and The Voluntourist is a great book.

Read it, I promise you'll be glad you did.