Beach Baby

It's possible I'm drunk. 

Probable even. 

This week is vacation week. For me.  And my friends. 

As I am inebriated, I may have ok'd during a group dinner to allow guest bloggers for a week. Or so. 

On one hand, it gets me off the hook, for a week. Or so. 

On the other hand, this could go way way way way wrong for me. And let's be honest, it's going to go way way way wrong for me. 

I'm owning it.  And again - honesty - there's like a 28% chance that this will happen. Bigger chance is I'll have to sober up and do all the entires myself. 

Song by: First Class

Hit the Road Jack

Last night I had dinner with a friend I don't think I had seen since 1991.

Jack and I met the summer of 1984. I was working in Manhattan and, let's just say, we met in a less than work-like setting.  Later that day, I was surprisingly introduced to his partner (who must have been surprised himself), who became one of my bestest friends in the universe, David G.

You've heard me mention David here often.

As off-putting as my introduction to David  seemed must have been for him, ironically he and I were the ones who became and remain quite close while Jack and I clearly drifted apart. I think I've only even spoken to Jack once in the last decade, though I still get the occasional email from him.

Oddly enough, in 1990, Morty was in P-town having some annoyingly loud party at his rental when the next door neighbor had to come over at 02:00 to tell them to keep it down.  That neighbor?  Jack.  Morty called me at 02:10 to tell me who he had met.  I'm not quite sure how they put 2+2 together to get me into the equation, but they did.  Small world.

Even more odd was that 710 and I were going two weeks later to stay with Jack and David.  That is a story unto itself - that 23 years later, parts I don't even want to revisit. So you shan't be getting that tale from me.

Jack and David moved on from each other - and Jack and myself moved on as well.  David and me? Not so much.

So while having a free evening in Central California, I opted to take the plunge and call Jack.

I opened with, "Hey you big homo!".  He went on for ten minutes (!!!!) and I let him until he called me "John".  He had no fucking idea who was talking to him.  I guess I can't blame him when we have not really conversed in years.

Still we decided to get together for appetizers and a drink last night.  I'd say it was nice to catch up - and it was - but it's hard to cram 22 years into two hours.  ...and I was told long ago you know you're old when people only talk about their maladies.

I'm not saying I'm old (but I am), but I'm not sure at that point what else we had in common, so it was easy to commiserate. ...and that's what we did.

Two hours was about enough time.  He knows I'll be traveling back through the area and wants to get back together. It was a fun experiment, but I don't know if I can relive too many nights talking like we did.

I'm back in two weeks, but I don't know he'll know that.

pssst, David: don't tell him.


Song by: Ray Charles

Good Friend

When I was in the Los Angeles area this last trip, I drove up a bit to see a longtime friend, York.

I know I've mentioned in one post having friends named York, Hillel, Hunter and of course, Denton. There is a Joe and Tom thrown in there too, I suppose.

I think I've mentioned him a few times before, but even with all the other trips I do to California, I have not gotten an opportunity to see him.

Morty and I met York 20 years ago this month !!!!  Can you believe that, Mort?  We were on a lost week(end) that ended in New Orleans.

I've remained friends with York ever since..

He's just one of those people I clicked with - and months, or longer, can go by and we pick up with no sense of weirdness. Not bad considering we've only actually seen each other in person a little more than a half dozen times in these two decades.

When we met, I was very smitten with him. That turned to friendship and has endured. When catching up with him for the six hours we sat around his house, I could see glimpses of why I was smitten.  Being older and arguably wiser, looking back, I can't imagine that would have ever come to fruition.

Ahhhh youth.  Though 28 doesn't seem that young. Well, I would have been 28 at the time, him a bit older.

This pic makes him look old too. He represents much better in real life than in the three pictures I took. I look slightly different in each one - he looks exactly the same frame by frame.

Still, it was good to catch-up. His partner, Stuart, was there when I arrived, and it was nice to see him again as well.  I was supposed to have drinks with the aforementioned Hillel, but my "lunch" with York went on that six hours - and I still had to drive an hour back to my hotel....so Hillel will have to wait until the next trip. He understood though.

Just for shits and giggles - not so much the giggles part - here is York and myself back in 1994 (?) in LAX. I was flying through and he came to meet me between lay-overs. Pre-9/11 when one could still to meet people at the gate.

There is something to be said for youth, but something to be said for aging.


Song by: Matthew Sweet

New Age

It's been an odd week.  While not completely related around age stuff, it has reared it's head, ugly or otherwise.

With complete disregard for timing, I missed one of my sister's 25th anniversary.  I don't think she cared that I didn't mention it, not that I've actually talked with her.

I had two co-worker's parents die, both much younger than either of mine.  And then the father of one of my fraternity brothers died also.  It's not weird, it just shows how much time marches on - with or without us.

But I had a conversation with one of my ex-bosses - she's retiring!!!  How can this be??

Phyllis is not 65 or anywhere abouts.  Early 50s.  She's just worked at the same place for the last 100 years (ok, maybe my math is bit off), and can take early retirement, as they are offering it at this point to certain staff member to save the "company" money. 

I don't know all the ins and outs of the deal, but it seems pretty nice for her.  She won't retire retire.  I'm not sure she can, but she also doesn't want to.  She is networking for other positions in a new field, which is brave on so many levels.  She's hoping to not find anything for a few months to enjoy this pseudo-retirement. Good for her.

I don't see a world in which I will be able to truly retire.  Of course, I didn't see a world in which I would still be alive today, let alone at retirement age, so I supposed there is a mixed blessing in there somewhere.  Of course, my Plan A is to win the lottery.  Plan B is to save enough for retirement.  I'm liking the former much better.   The odds are about the same for either scenario.

I'm no good with death.  I never have been.  I don't believe I have anything truly comforting to say to people who experience a loss.  It all seems like a platitude.  It's not that I'm not sincere, it's just that everyone has said the same thing since the beginning of time.  So much so, I'm not sure if it still has meaning.   Yet I go through the motions and still want to kick myself.

Oh well, onward and upward, I suppose.  I'm thrilled for Phyllis.  Her kids are gone and on their own, and she can truly do almost anything she wants.  She's thrilled and nervous, but I don't think she has a reason to be.  I don't know how is actually hiring women in their 50s these days, but I'm not sure of anyone who is hiring - period.  She'll be fine for a year, which isn't a bad thing. 

Ok - now I'm just rambling.  I'll stop now, as I have no good way to wrap this up with any kind of bow.



Song by:  Rachel Sweet