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Honoring my Mother | Friends and other people Part 2

I have always heard the familiar whine “Monday sucks” from people, especially working-class heroes out there, who are still reeling from their weekend overloads. That has never been the case for me.

On this particular first day of the week for instance, I once again felt that extra bounce on the balls of my feet as I eagerly anticipated a merienda cena with friends of more than forty years. I could have, of course said “old friends,” but that would have been a gross understatement, as by our looks today, we would now surely classify as ancient ones, by millennial standards. That has a much nicer ring to it though, like druids or Gandalfs sitting at a table formulating exotic potions and formulas.

Come to think of it, us meeting reminds me of that Simon & Garfunkel song about old friends sitting on a park bench like bookends. Popular song during our time in the 70s, and our scoring and soundtrack now.

Needless to say, when my much-awaited moment came at 3:00 on that Monday afternoon, we were like a bunch of noisy high-schoolers let loose once again, laughing heartily at the slightest recollections of days gone by. (With apologies to the other patrons of that Alice’s Restaurant.)

Now I may have written earlier about our last meet-up and that it had convinced me to promising that I would always try to be present whenever the next one came along. Updates on each batchmate after all, is never a dull one, especially when coming from those whom you still picture in your mind as the lanky innocents in your college (and even primary) school days.

It’s always like rewatching old movies on DVD, but this time, you have the special extended edition, complete with directorial notes. However, a gathering of ancients will never be complete without tabs on who is still here in the material world and who have sadly gone… a casual thing, as though we were just leafing through a catalogue of old and new cars (and other models).

I guess that is just how conversations change with time, from kiddie stuff, to hobbies, to adventures, misadventures, then life stories, until you finally ask who’s left. Nothing morbid in that really, just the normal mind gauge at fixing your present position in this universe. Affirming our position as ancients, is more like it. And I like that.

An early evening may have grudgingly ended that three o’clock ‘soiree’ (sooo classy in our time), but as always, everything will neatly be filed in a new folder for upload to the old brain that has lots of memory still. Nootropics to go please.

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