We had a big weekend in town.  A lot of folk came for the music and to remind us of things in our past.

Even some of the girls I dated in high school made the trip.  They come from far away galaxies, hauling their husbands and wives back to their hometown.

Saturday we met for breakfast at a local cafe.  The place opened early, just for us.  Vinyl table cloths, paper plates and napkins.  Styrofoam cups and plastic. Some squeaky chairs that get heavier and heavier every year.  Everyone was invited.  Biscuits, sausage, eggs and coffee.

We drifted in, one or two at a time.  There were hugs and handshakes.  Sometimes  a question.

“Who were you?  Tell me one more time.”

Some  of us are hard core,  we drank our coffee black and fiddled with the napkins in our hands.

We sat  around a couple of tables, letting go of what we left at home, reaching back, trying to grasp, maybe, just a little bit of yesterday.  We’ve already realized tomorrow is a wish, not a promise.

I know these people and I don’t know them at all.  High school was a hundred years ago.  Who are we today?

Awkward.  It took a few minutes before we knew what to say.  Grandkids is a common theme.  Old friendships need to be kindled like a new fire.  We talk about our parents, the ones we’ve lost and when.

The talk turns.  One or two of friends didn’t make it through the year.  It’s a shame.  We try to talk about them.  That’s hard to do.  They were a part of our lives, like distance cousins.

“Whatever happened to….”

“I didn’t know that.”

“That had to be bad.”

and, “God bless ’em.”

This  annual get together is for us.  Part of what we call Brookstock.  Three days, remembering what got us here.  There is a lot of love at Brookstock.  I’m sure there are some smoldering remnants of fire hot loves when we were sixteen or seventeen.  And, those “Thank God that ended back then!” thoughts.

Now, here’s the funny part.  New subjects creep in as the years progress.  We guys used to talk about the women, the wishes, the hopes and the fantasies never full filled.

I don’t know what you women talk about.  Maybe your wishes, hopes and fantasies.

These days everyone of us has the same subject on our mind, with sixty being in our rear view mirror.  We stopped counting birthday candles years ago.

Yep, when  the conversation started,  it turned quickly.

The subject is important.  We have a lot of questions.  We need some  answers.

“Tell me about Medicare.”

“When I turn 72, they say I have to cash in my IRA, Why?”

“Damn this Part D”

“Do you have a living will?  What about a Power of Attorney?”

The main  conversation. I kid you not.

We laugh about it.  Old people talk like that!

Whoa!

Today, we are the old people.

 

Please feel free to share.  I welcome your comments and thoughts.  Contact Mike Windham at amwindham100@gmail.com.  You can follow my blog at mikewindham.com.