Never met Hanuman Brown-Eagle? You need to. He’s worked alongside me on shoots as the astute camera guy for the last seven years of my career.  That either makes him a saint, a fool, or completely desperate.

Or a desperate foolish saint.

Hanuman (pronounced Hah-new-mon) and I despised each other for the first year of our gainful employment. He was a punk-ass, know-it-all 20-year-old hippie freak, which is what I’d call him in some variation nearly every day. He’d pull no punches in letting me know I was a cranky, pushy, mean-spirited diva who needed to be bitchslapped—hard. We nearly killed each other on a daily basis, and that’s when we weren’t at each other’s throats.

We both laugh about it now because we’re the best of friends. Not sure when Hanu lightened the eff up, but he’ll likely say the same thing about me.

I’ve traveled half the continental United States with this kid.  Two things you should know about “Monster”—which is my oh-so adorable pet name for him. 1) no matter what airport we’re in, he’s always yanked out of the security line for additional screening. He thinks it’s because of his weird name. I think it’s because he looked like a sketchy ne’er-do-well with his disheveled mane.  Hygiene schmigiene. And 2) no matter what city we’re in, Hanu can score weed. Waiters, cabbies, front desk clerks, parking lot valets—doesn’t matter who Hanu talks to, they inevitably offer him pot. He gives all new meaning to the term going green.

He’s a little squirrely. For instance, he can fall asleep anywhere within eight seconds—and, no, he’s not narcoleptic. But the kid has a HUGE heart. When I asked him to give up a Saturday to shoot my first pro-bono video for SAVE, Inc., Hanu said, “Sure—I’m in.”  To date that video is one of the best things I’ve ever worked on. It’s raised nearly $1 million for the charity and won an Emmy. And, like me, he still tears up when he watches it.

Oh, and did I mention he’s squirrely? Dude takes, on average, 40 minutes to decide what to order from a restaurant menu. It drives me berserk. I will literally threaten to pick something inedible out for him if he doesn’t order immediately.  (“You’re gonna get the beef tongue—and you’re gonna like it, bitch!”)

After I had my stroke last year, Hanu noticed a change in me. He immediately picked up upon the fact that I was a bit more hesitant to do certain things. “Hey, since you’ve already defied death once — how about we go skydiving?” he asked. “My treat,” he added.

I said yes without thinking and spent the next three months regretting it. I canceled the reservation three times before Hanu sensing it was never going to happen finally made the appointment AND picked me up day of. It was a complete rush and a definite highlight of turning 40. I offered to pick up lunch to thank him. There was one mom-and-pop burger joint in the tiny town we were in. This place was old school, a walk-up diner where you give your order to some guy behind a mosquito-proof screen.

Of course, it took him 15 minutes to make up his mind. But this time I happily waited. It only took seven years and fifteen minutes for me to realize what a great friend (and hella-talented shooter) he’d become.