Friday night
“When I see you I think of my brother”, he winced. It was Hal’s Rowland reunion, with siblings included. Shaking Marty’s hand (as I refilled Carrie’s soft drink), I embraced memories of his brother –my classmate – who’d died young. Three years ago, next month, I remembered…as well as how I’d found out…on Facebook.
“My brother got cheated,” he lamented (the surround/sound of contemporaries underscoring his comment).
It was an evening of turned back time – from Davis Bakery coconut bars to Geraci’s pizza. Our classmates they weren’t, but our people they were.
Ms. Leimsieder too, you see, has lived the gift of South Euclid.
So there we shared hugs, hellos, embraces and clasps and renewals in a party room flooded with six Boobus Bowl veterans, five lodge brothers, four members of the early ‘60’s White Sox, three OSU roomies, two sisters of sisters from my Bar Mitzvah—and one Pear. (Not to mention H’s first girlfriend).
It would have been nice, though, to have seen Bobby Wishnek.
Saturday morning
Six tenths of a mile, that’s all: the distance from Bob’s house, past Stu’s and mine– to Alan’s. Not that I needed to, but to assure accuracy, I map-quested it. South on Wrenford, of course; then left at Bayard and across Belvoir. They were simpler times of boyhood intimacies.
Bobby was coolest back then. But from days of bicycles through years we were too proud to ride them…until the ultimate manhood of driver’s licenses—we grew from pals…to friends… to The Big Four.
Some things never change. Would Wieder’s pit stop in town afford us time to convene? Would digital analysis be needed to sync our schedules? Most importantly, would Bobby pass on golf? Mindful agendas they were: Alan had family to see; Snyder had a foursome to honor; Stuart never leaves his house. What to do!
(Me? I’m easy, readily relishing my self-pronounced latter-day status as a Man For All Seasons. Never leaving town I’m ALWAYS available. I mean, really: Al lives in Portland, Stu down in Naples, Bobby in Bainbridge…and me…me: just 1.44 miles past Wido’s old house. (And YES, I map-quested that too).
But coffee we did. La Place’s patio. Over smiles.
And catch up we did: Alan’s book. My brother. Bonnie’s father (Grover’s project).
And laugh we did: reliving last year’s Erev Brush Reunion dinner —from the jousting over who’d be included to the special poll taken that night (and Ermine’s refusal to vote) to the conversation between Marvin and Stuart the very next night….(not to mention the mandatory two minutes on Jackie Levine).
Reveling, smiles eclipsing even laughter, four core friends sat with a bond much like the postman’s creed. Indeed, after all the years, tears and (sometimes) fears we’d shared, STILL, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night can stay our harmony.
How close are we…still? No Mapquest required.
Sunday afternoon
It was sunny in Cleveland, and lazy.
Al and Joanie had left. Dick stopped by on his out. Across the globe the world awaited an all-Nazi soccer final and here, a local star was coming home.
Hal looked good Friday night. Lucy shone bright in a pic on Facebook. Eli’s birthday’s a week away.
And I woke up this morning, after a weekend with friends, next to the best of them all.
Al Bogart’d have said “You’ve got the world “by the balls”; Ben Selzer’d have chimed “By the kalooms, my boy”. How right on they’d be.
Buttressed by the past, but not living in it, I cherish my wonder years, but know these are the glory days.
Sounds like you had a great weekend. Glad I was part of it. There are those that may say some of us live in the past too much. I don’t agree. We relish today and the future and hope to talk about these times as well. But it was our past that shaped today and the future and any good time should be remembered with those that were there while we still can. Who knows when another (Wishnik) will not be around to share the experiences.
Amen.