Not long ago I was sitting in the Northwest Florida Regional Airport waiting for my flight to Dallas and then on to LAX. I was leaving Florida and had three hours to kill and I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do than tell you about a friendship that has lasted more than fifty years. But this is not just a friendship of two guys or even three. This is five guys who graduated from high school in 1965 and remain close friends today.
I was in the airport flying home to California after spending a week in Florida with my friends. Their names are Fast Eddie, The Load, Dr. Philippe, and Lucky Chesterfield. Since four of us are retired, we can come and go as we please. Dr. Philippe still works and was snowed under with work and had to take a pass on Florida. I'm the only guy who's single but oddly enough the other guys' wives don't seem to mind that much if they take off for a week -- or more. As I said we graduated from high school together but that wasn't the beginning of our friendship. I've known Lucky since kindergarten in lovely Fairborn, Ohio in 1953. A mere fifty-nine years. I 've known The Load and Dr.Philippe since fourth grade and Fast Eddie since we were sophomores in high school. That's a helluva long time. What's really amazing is that we are as close now as we were in high school even though we don't live close together any more. Since we were in our late fifties we've gotten together regularly a couple of times every year. We communicate by email on a daily basis. Well, as least The Load does. I believe he has a bit too much time on his hands.
We of course grew up in the same town and were constant companions throughout high school. By constant companions I mean we hung out together every day during school and after school. For reasons none of us can figure out, we never got into much trouble. In fact I can't remember the whole group ever getting in trouble at school or with the law or our parents. We sure as hell weren't goody two-shoes, but we weren't badasses either. Before high school we did have a gang - the Top Hats. We were scary little fuckers. We had jackets with top hats sewn on the back. I have no clue what this little adventure signified but there it was. We were freshmen in 1962 at a time where seventh, eight and ninth graders went to junior high and sophomores were the low rung in high school. As freshman, Lucky went to a Catholic high school and we didn't know Fast Eddie yet. -- By the way, I think we also called Fast Eddie Muscle Breath, but I don't think I'll use that name since he can still kick the shit out of me. -- So for a year it was just The Load, Dr. Philippe and me as the big shots at Five Points Junior High. By then we had started to develop separate paths at school. As a freshman I played football, baseball and basketball -- and wasn't worth a damn in any of them. Philippe and Load were in the band which would continue throughout high school.
As I said we were inseparable in high school and, damn, we had some fun times. The kind of crap that we still think is hilarious today no matter how many times we say "Remember when we . . . " Lucky Chesterfield has a unique mind -- he had it then and he has it now. He comes out with some stuff that is utterly hysterical, "Like what" you may say. I'll try to think of an easy-to-relate example but suffice it to say that he can make us fall out of our chairs laughing.
When we were seniors we had another member of the group. Large Louis. After high school, he and Dr. Philippe went off to get high in Vietnam and after they returned from their tour he headed for New Zealand where he has been since. During high school we did some really stupid shit like everyone else, but we seemed to be more clever about it. We were pretty well known and the bond amongst us was pretty strong. For example, when we were seniors I was going steady with this smart, pretty, sweet girl who was all a kid like me could ask for. Lucky was going with this overbearing bitch that I thought bossed him around too much. So genius that I am, I told him I would break up with the girl of my dreams if he broke up with his girl. He did and I did. How mature.
After high school there was Vietnam. As I mentioned Dr. Philippe and Louis went over there. The Load and Fast Eddie joined the Army but stayed in the states. Lucky and I dodged the draft - successfully. After that we really started to drift apart. I was married while in undergraduate school and I had little contact with the guys. We would attend class reunions religiously every five years and laugh our asses off, but that was pretty much it. We all had families and careers and were at times totally estranged from each other - almost. But for reasons that I don't fully understand, Fast Eddie always kept us together by setting up - what else? - get-togethers. Rarely were all of us there at the same time. Lucky had some dark times. The Load had two girls to raise and had moved one town over. Dr. Philippe was globe hopping with his daughter and wife - also a long time friend of mine. Fast Eddie had moved to Nerk - that's the way they pronounce Newark there.
Now our families have been raised, we've retired - most of us - and we have time to look back on fond memories. It is truly amazing and wonderful that we can still be good friends after all these years. Men and women are very different about friendships. Men's best friends are often guys that they have known all their lives. Something about the basic mistrust men have for other men, particularly in the workplace, that makes this true. That's why I feel so fortunate to have these guys as friends. The comfort we have around each other is a rare thing. It gives one a great sense of security to be able to totally relax and talk about anything that's on your mind to other guys. Rarely do men find that in friends they make at work. Too much competitiveness. The way these guys look out for me because of my health gives me a sense of absolute safety. I know that I don't have to hide my illnesses from them. Each one of them has been incredibly generous in their praise of my effort to rise above my illnesses and live a high quality of life. You can't imagine how much that means to me.
So I hope we will get together again this fall at Fast Eddie's farm or somewhere exotic, but wherever it is I know we will talk he same bullshit, laugh at the same shit we've been laughing about for fifty years and be totally relaxed in each other's company.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
101 Blind Dates
Every time I heard something like "Your Southern California Toyota Dealers . . ." on the radio or TV, I think: "Holy shit. I live in Southern California." Honestly, I didn't think it was a real place. It seemed to exist only on television. The best way I can illustrate it is to think of sitting and watching Jimmy Kimmel. If I'm watching in Michigan I know I'm watching a show that was taped a few hours ago somewhere in Hollywood. But there's no physical location that you associate with it so it's like it's out there in the ether somewhere. When I'm watching it here I think "Oh yeah, that's just up the road on Hollywood boulevard." I know I'm an over-analytic nut case and you probably don't think this way but these strange little things fascinate me. . .
Little did I know when I woke up a few days ago that I would be having humble pie for breakfast. I'll explain of course, but first I have to figure out how to make it entertaining enough to read. . . I'm not sure that I've written an entertaining blog since 2009 but I'm going to write one today.
So back to the humble pie. I had my first California date. Here's how it happened. A really nice woman was the organizer of a mixer that I attended and we started talking. She is very interested in matchmaking. So we got into a conversation about dating and dating services. I have an extensive background in that arena. So I immediately puff out my chest and say "Well I've been on more than a hundred blind dates -- That's right; a hundred. And blah, blah, blah." (I can be such a dipshit at times.) She was very interested to know what I had learned. As we talked she told me that she was hosting a small group discussion on dating and that I should come to it. Which I did. Prior to the meeting she sent me the name of a woman, whom I'll call Sandra, and asked me to check her out. She said she was going to try to get her to come to the group.
Sandra couldn't attend but the discussion was fun and my friend did an excellent job of hosting it. It's not often that single men and women can openly discuss expectations and behaviors in dating in a non-threatening environment. Afterward it was over it was up to me to make a connection with Sandra; so I did. We agreed to meet for lunch in Laguna Beach. She suggested that we get food to go at this healthy Mexican food place and walk over onto the grounds of the Montage resort. It was stunning; absolutely beautiful surroundings and a gorgeous day. We had a very nice conversation and I really enjoyed it, and was impressed by Sandra.
However on the walk over to Montage we had to climb down several flights of stairs. As soon as we went down the first set of stairs I knew my cover was blown. I knew there was no way in hell I could climb up those stairs so I was going to have to ask here to drive down to the hotel and pick me up. You see, one thing I have learned on those 100 blind dates is that I don't give my entire medical history away on the first date. It's a real show-stopper. Since I generally don't look sick or act sick, I allow some time to pass before I recite the litany of shit that's wrong with me. Sandra accepted this information without reaction and even told me about her own medical stuff.
I left feeling good. I was trying to piece together the signals she had given me and I couldn't quite figure out how she felt about the date. So that evening after I had been re-hashing the date and expanding it's significance in my head, I sat down to write her an email note. By then my exuberance had overtaken me and I wrote a message that was a bit over the top. I did have the good sense to stop myself and sent it first to my good friend Romy to ask her opinion. Unfortunately Romy didn't get back to me until the morning and in my impatience, I sent the message to Sandra. She came back shortly with a polite response which was open for interpretation. I took it as a brush off; my therapist took it as an invitation for more intimacy. (Yes, that's right. I talked to my therapist about it. I am crazy, you know.) So I waited three days and called Sandra. She was in the middle of something so I asked if I could call the following day -- Super Bowl Sunday. Before I got a chance to call, I received an email that was polite and contained the phrase "lack of chemistry". Now there's a signal that is not subject to interpretation. It means thanks, but no thanks. I was crushed -- at least for a while. I actually thought there was lots of chemistry. I did think my inability to climb stairs may have been a problem.
We've actually exchanged a couple of emails since and seem to agree that we each would like to be friends. Later today when I call her I guess I'll find out how much interpretation is necessary for the phrase "just friends."
You know I can see why my kids don't read my blogs. If I was their age it would freak me out that my 64 year old father was still dealing with dating and relationships at his age. I think kids think a guy my age should have his life settled long ago and just do old people shit. Whatever that may be. But some things never change. The complexity and silliness of relationships between men and women lasts a lifetime. If it doesn't, then you should stick to old people shit.
Thanks for reading.
Little did I know when I woke up a few days ago that I would be having humble pie for breakfast. I'll explain of course, but first I have to figure out how to make it entertaining enough to read. . . I'm not sure that I've written an entertaining blog since 2009 but I'm going to write one today.
So back to the humble pie. I had my first California date. Here's how it happened. A really nice woman was the organizer of a mixer that I attended and we started talking. She is very interested in matchmaking. So we got into a conversation about dating and dating services. I have an extensive background in that arena. So I immediately puff out my chest and say "Well I've been on more than a hundred blind dates -- That's right; a hundred. And blah, blah, blah." (I can be such a dipshit at times.) She was very interested to know what I had learned. As we talked she told me that she was hosting a small group discussion on dating and that I should come to it. Which I did. Prior to the meeting she sent me the name of a woman, whom I'll call Sandra, and asked me to check her out. She said she was going to try to get her to come to the group.
Sandra couldn't attend but the discussion was fun and my friend did an excellent job of hosting it. It's not often that single men and women can openly discuss expectations and behaviors in dating in a non-threatening environment. Afterward it was over it was up to me to make a connection with Sandra; so I did. We agreed to meet for lunch in Laguna Beach. She suggested that we get food to go at this healthy Mexican food place and walk over onto the grounds of the Montage resort. It was stunning; absolutely beautiful surroundings and a gorgeous day. We had a very nice conversation and I really enjoyed it, and was impressed by Sandra.
However on the walk over to Montage we had to climb down several flights of stairs. As soon as we went down the first set of stairs I knew my cover was blown. I knew there was no way in hell I could climb up those stairs so I was going to have to ask here to drive down to the hotel and pick me up. You see, one thing I have learned on those 100 blind dates is that I don't give my entire medical history away on the first date. It's a real show-stopper. Since I generally don't look sick or act sick, I allow some time to pass before I recite the litany of shit that's wrong with me. Sandra accepted this information without reaction and even told me about her own medical stuff.
I left feeling good. I was trying to piece together the signals she had given me and I couldn't quite figure out how she felt about the date. So that evening after I had been re-hashing the date and expanding it's significance in my head, I sat down to write her an email note. By then my exuberance had overtaken me and I wrote a message that was a bit over the top. I did have the good sense to stop myself and sent it first to my good friend Romy to ask her opinion. Unfortunately Romy didn't get back to me until the morning and in my impatience, I sent the message to Sandra. She came back shortly with a polite response which was open for interpretation. I took it as a brush off; my therapist took it as an invitation for more intimacy. (Yes, that's right. I talked to my therapist about it. I am crazy, you know.) So I waited three days and called Sandra. She was in the middle of something so I asked if I could call the following day -- Super Bowl Sunday. Before I got a chance to call, I received an email that was polite and contained the phrase "lack of chemistry". Now there's a signal that is not subject to interpretation. It means thanks, but no thanks. I was crushed -- at least for a while. I actually thought there was lots of chemistry. I did think my inability to climb stairs may have been a problem.
We've actually exchanged a couple of emails since and seem to agree that we each would like to be friends. Later today when I call her I guess I'll find out how much interpretation is necessary for the phrase "just friends."
You know I can see why my kids don't read my blogs. If I was their age it would freak me out that my 64 year old father was still dealing with dating and relationships at his age. I think kids think a guy my age should have his life settled long ago and just do old people shit. Whatever that may be. But some things never change. The complexity and silliness of relationships between men and women lasts a lifetime. If it doesn't, then you should stick to old people shit.
Thanks for reading.
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