I graduated High School in Iowa. I went to that school for the final semester of my Senior year for reasons that are complicated and way too lengthy to go into here. I went from a class of 400 to a class of less than 40. I left that town in Iowa four days after I graduated, and I never looked back. I never heard from any of my classmates, and was ultimately left in limbo as far as High School reunions go. The one I went to for all but a semester crossed me off their list and I suspect that reunions in Ida Grove, Iowa consist of running into each other at the Pizza Hut every other week.
I had a tight knit group of friends in High School- the one that I went to for all but a Semester that is. There were about 7 or 8 of us in the group, and four of us that I guess really composed the spoke in the center. Three of us have the same tattoo, a small paw on our left forearm just below the elbow; a handmade mark that took a couple of times to perfect. Looking back on it now, I'd absolutely do it again, given the opportunity.
We were brothers, tight together, would bleed for one another, stand up against the world for one another, and we did anything and everything together. We laughed together- wow did we laugh, and we weren't afraid to cry in front of one another. They were my Brothers and oh, the stories I could tell!
I feel in some ways like I knew those guys better than anyone else in my life, and I think that for a time that was absolutely true. Its scary when I think about how short that time in my life actually was- we started to move apart at 20, which means that I knew Rob for 8 years, Dante for 6, and Bill for only 4 before we headed to all points in the compass. Life you see moves us forward and we forge ahead- damn the torpedoes! Girls, adventure, school, opportunities, love take us to places that we never think we will see.
We were maybe 21 or 22 when we last all got together, and we would have been 25 or 26 when I got married and Bill and Rob stood beside me at the altar. Bill and I kept in touch, but I lost track of Dante a long time ago and Rob drifted slowly away until we didn't hear much from him either.
So call it 20 years. 20 years before Facebook, opportunity, and I'm guessing alcohol on all fronts brought us back together. A quick post to Bill asking if he wanted to see Van Halen, a like by Dante, a quick tag of Rob, and the next thing you know flights are being booked, concert tickets are being bought, and plans are being made.
Having never been to one short of one for my wife's family where her Dad bought us Amaretto Sours (ick!) even though we were underage, for me there’s something romantic about the idea of a reunion. There are innumerable movies that glorify the idea- Jeremy Piven in Gross Pointe Blank hitting a roach, pounding the steering wheel and exclaiming to John Cusack, “Ten years! Ten fucking years!”. The same Cusack whispering solemnly with his old compatriots of the sacred,” Great white buffalo" in Hot Tub Time Machine. They are a time to reconnect with our past, to see people that we don't normally see, to reminisce, and to bask in the glory of times long since past.
Similarly, there's a fair amount of trepidation that surrounds a reunion. Time can be cruel. We tend to, well, swell is probably the best way to put it over the years, and youth is much much more fleeting than we would like. Reunions are equally a time to witness first hand the ravages of age; the increased waistlines, the receding hairlines, the corrective lenses, the lines that worry has brought to brows. They are a time of self reflection, to see where our peers are and to measure ourselves if not our lives against theirs.
That balance of emotions is damn complicated. I had about two months before we got together to run through them all as well as the longest damn two hour flight of my life to get out to Denver to consider it all.
The trepidation was gone the second I saw Bill and Dante at passenger pick up- big ole shit eating grins on their faces and bear hugs at the ready. It was the same when I saw Rob strolling up the sidewalk to the brewpub where we were all waiting, larger than life and seemingly without a care in the world, just like always. We were all different- different sizes, shapes, voices, amounts of hair- yet we were exactly the same.
I had a tight knit group of friends in High School- the one that I went to for all but a Semester that is. There were about 7 or 8 of us in the group, and four of us that I guess really composed the spoke in the center. Three of us have the same tattoo, a small paw on our left forearm just below the elbow; a handmade mark that took a couple of times to perfect. Looking back on it now, I'd absolutely do it again, given the opportunity.
We were brothers, tight together, would bleed for one another, stand up against the world for one another, and we did anything and everything together. We laughed together- wow did we laugh, and we weren't afraid to cry in front of one another. They were my Brothers and oh, the stories I could tell!
I feel in some ways like I knew those guys better than anyone else in my life, and I think that for a time that was absolutely true. Its scary when I think about how short that time in my life actually was- we started to move apart at 20, which means that I knew Rob for 8 years, Dante for 6, and Bill for only 4 before we headed to all points in the compass. Life you see moves us forward and we forge ahead- damn the torpedoes! Girls, adventure, school, opportunities, love take us to places that we never think we will see.
We were maybe 21 or 22 when we last all got together, and we would have been 25 or 26 when I got married and Bill and Rob stood beside me at the altar. Bill and I kept in touch, but I lost track of Dante a long time ago and Rob drifted slowly away until we didn't hear much from him either.
So call it 20 years. 20 years before Facebook, opportunity, and I'm guessing alcohol on all fronts brought us back together. A quick post to Bill asking if he wanted to see Van Halen, a like by Dante, a quick tag of Rob, and the next thing you know flights are being booked, concert tickets are being bought, and plans are being made.
Having never been to one short of one for my wife's family where her Dad bought us Amaretto Sours (ick!) even though we were underage, for me there’s something romantic about the idea of a reunion. There are innumerable movies that glorify the idea- Jeremy Piven in Gross Pointe Blank hitting a roach, pounding the steering wheel and exclaiming to John Cusack, “Ten years! Ten fucking years!”. The same Cusack whispering solemnly with his old compatriots of the sacred,” Great white buffalo" in Hot Tub Time Machine. They are a time to reconnect with our past, to see people that we don't normally see, to reminisce, and to bask in the glory of times long since past.
 |
| Twenty! Twenty Years! |
Similarly, there's a fair amount of trepidation that surrounds a reunion. Time can be cruel. We tend to, well, swell is probably the best way to put it over the years, and youth is much much more fleeting than we would like. Reunions are equally a time to witness first hand the ravages of age; the increased waistlines, the receding hairlines, the corrective lenses, the lines that worry has brought to brows. They are a time of self reflection, to see where our peers are and to measure ourselves if not our lives against theirs.
That balance of emotions is damn complicated. I had about two months before we got together to run through them all as well as the longest damn two hour flight of my life to get out to Denver to consider it all.
The trepidation was gone the second I saw Bill and Dante at passenger pick up- big ole shit eating grins on their faces and bear hugs at the ready. It was the same when I saw Rob strolling up the sidewalk to the brewpub where we were all waiting, larger than life and seemingly without a care in the world, just like always. We were all different- different sizes, shapes, voices, amounts of hair- yet we were exactly the same.
Much time was spent catching up and reminiscing- who we are became just as important as who we were. As time went on, we found that more was said in silence than in words; the ability for that to be to me was a comfort, really, as
opposed to being awkward- for I enjoyed simply being in the company of my friends, in observing mannerisms long forgotten, in the sound of voices and of laughter not heard
in so many years.
Youth in a way seemed to be restored once the machismo was tossed aside and the aching limbs, heads and bellies were forgotten. There is a curative effect for just a brief period of time as the mind if not the body traverses back through time and allows itself to revisit where it came from- the bad, the terrible, but mostly the lots and lots of good.
Youth in a way seemed to be restored once the machismo was tossed aside and the aching limbs, heads and bellies were forgotten. There is a curative effect for just a brief period of time as the mind if not the body traverses back through time and allows itself to revisit where it came from- the bad, the terrible, but mostly the lots and lots of good.
When the time came for goodbyes, handshakes, hugs, and thank you's, there was no sadness. We'd spent our time together and it was time for us to return to our lives once again. No promises were made to do it again, lest they not be kept for reasons beyond our control. I don't want to wait another 20 years though; if nothing else, I suspect that 80 year old David Lee Roth will be completely insufferable (the 60 year old version is bad enough).
Our friends are our family when we are young, and if you are lucky enough to have friends that are like brothers to you, then you are very lucky indeed. The blessing of spending a few moments together later in life is one that should never be discounted and must absolutely savored, even if you all don't exactly age well like a fine wine.
Our friends are our family when we are young, and if you are lucky enough to have friends that are like brothers to you, then you are very lucky indeed. The blessing of spending a few moments together later in life is one that should never be discounted and must absolutely savored, even if you all don't exactly age well like a fine wine.
 |
| Bill, Chris, Rob, and Dante |
Now I think I'm going down to the well tonight
and I'm going to drink till I get my fill
And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it
but I probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
a little of the glory of, well time slips away
and leaves you with nothing mister but
boring stories of glory days
and I'm going to drink till I get my fill
And I hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it
but I probably will
Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
a little of the glory of, well time slips away
and leaves you with nothing mister but
boring stories of glory days
-Bruce Springsteen, Glory Days, 1984
No comments:
Post a Comment