I heard from Chris today. Regular readers will remember "Summer Friends", which I posted on Feb. 19th. Chris was a member of the pack back in 1982. We talked for a while, and the longer we talked, the younger we became.
Time is a really strange thing. How is it that when old friends meet, or just talk to each other, the years go away? Several years after the magic summer of '82, Chris brought his bride to be, whom he had met in Minnesota after moving there, with him to see California.
Somehow, he managed to find me while I was living on a boat in Ventura and sharing a public phone with about twenty other guys living aboard their vessels. That's not real hard to do these days, but back then, before cell phones and the Internet, it took a lot of brains, will power and persistence to round up a stray. Chris has all three of those items in spades.
He wanted me to meet Marylee, to whom he is still married. One of us, probably him, suggested McClintock's, a steakhouse on the beach somewhere close to Paso Robles. MGB's don't burn a lot of gas, it was cheap back then anyway, and a drive along the California coast is always pleasant. Even if you start with a couple for the road. I met them there.
Poor Marylee, she wound up babysitting a couple of buddies who hadn't seen each other in a while. The dinner was great, and the Rocky Mountain Oysters that followed, six or eight plates full, were even better. After conning her into eating a bunch of them and sorta getting kicked out of the place by a fuddy-duddy manager who didn't like noise and the lit cigarette in the mouth of the mounted moose head above our table, we stopped at a nearby package store and adjourned to the beach.
We spent a couple of hours there, took some pictures that are still in one or another of the unpacked boxes in my garage, and then tried to find our separate ways home. Neither of us made it that night - motel stops were in order, and although separated, both of us were smart enough to realize it.
The years melted away as we talked about that meal tonight, and it was 1985 again. My body felt 55 pounds lighter as we spoke, and the wrinkles on my brow disappeared - the only creases in my face were the lines created by the constant smile and laughter of my younger days.
Yes, time is something we create as we pass through this world. Some things can make us older than our years, and three minutes later, another thing will take away the years and the newest concerns. I've found that in my case, the best way to go on a time-diet (shed years instead of pounds) is to talk with an old friend.
I try to treat every person I met these days in a manner that will make them want to become an old friend. Hopefully several of the folks I meet today will still be in my life thirty years from now.
I'll be able to shed the years then, if I lay the foundation now.
Forrest, I can't say that I'm as outward-looking as you. I don't attract a lot of friends, and that's nobody's fault but mine.
ReplyDeleteThat said, living in a college town does have its advantages. I look around at all the kids discovering the world and going through the same things I did 35 years ago, just as cluelessly.
And it makes me remember that while I may be old, the world is still young. And it'll stay young as long as young people with dreams are still in it. I see them walking down the street, bold and naive and hopeful, and it cheers me right up. These are still _their_ good old days. And if that's the case, who's to say there aren't some good ones yet left for me?
Boomer- There are SO MANY good good days left for you! Every time I read your work, I'm amazed at the insight you have. Your ability to create a whole world in a few paragraphs is astonishing.
ReplyDeleteYou still have Rhumba for your best friend. I must look elsewhere as my favorite dancer is becoming more lost each day. Naturally, friends are a larger part of my life these days than they once were. There's more room for them. I wish that were not the case.