The night I got back from New York, I returned back to the 'hood and contacted R. R. was the older sister of G., a boy I grew up with. She was five years older than us, I think, and when we started kindegarten she was the patrol that safely shepherded us across the street...from her family's driveway to the bus. There are photographs of G and my first day of school. We are too cute, small with backpacks stuffed with air and excitement but not so much with books. R. was also the cool high school girl with boyfriends parking their cars by our mailboxes (we lived about one minute away from each other, walking) and leading roles in all the high school plays. I went over to their (she's married now and has bought the house from her dad) house and we drank beer, smoked a cigarette or nine million and shot the shit. It was funny being in her house since it is also a house full of memories for me. Watching Mac and Me in sleeping bags, an unfortunate incident involving G. and I, a sled and R. pushing a little too hard...and a tree, the laundry shoot in their parents' room, accordions (for some reason)...you know lots of random snippets of kid time. Any who. We had fun chatting and R. declared me not weird and invited me to a party at her house a few days later. I went and there was cheese and chips and whatnot.
A beautiful golden retriever/black lab mix named Jack. I didn't get a good photograph but let me tell you: he is a handsome son of a bitch.
There was a fire that, when left alone for awhile, provided excellent embers for hot dog cooking.
And there were plenty of condiments to put on the hot dogs. Like chili, sauerkraut, onions and other things too.
It was very nice of R. to invite me. You never know whether having some shared history will translate into an ability to socialize. I'd say that, in this case, the shared history did its job. I hope I didn't bore the party-goers with my never ending litany of "I remember". Eh, even if I did there's not much I can do about it now:). Thanks to R. for being so welcoming.
A beautiful golden retriever/black lab mix named Jack. I didn't get a good photograph but let me tell you: he is a handsome son of a bitch.
There was a fire that, when left alone for awhile, provided excellent embers for hot dog cooking.
And there were plenty of condiments to put on the hot dogs. Like chili, sauerkraut, onions and other things too.
It was very nice of R. to invite me. You never know whether having some shared history will translate into an ability to socialize. I'd say that, in this case, the shared history did its job. I hope I didn't bore the party-goers with my never ending litany of "I remember". Eh, even if I did there's not much I can do about it now:). Thanks to R. for being so welcoming.
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