After this past “winter of our discontent”, with New England bombarded with twice the usual annual snowfall and grumpy natives grumpier than usual for months, the sun came out for the weekend.
I was appropriately shocked at the sight. I dropped to my knees in the dirt, said “If I garden, I can stay out in this all day!” and suddenly understood the wierd New England obsession with gardening.
This week has been all about nostalgia – one long steady stream of blasts from my past.
I’ve been contacted by what feels like legions of friends, lost to my wandering ways – time and distance – the great friendship defeaters, after all. Those who haven’t contacted me out of the blue have popped up on my radar screen by other means, prompting a flood of semi-drunken wee hour emails, instant messages and phone calls.
Flurries of contact in this long island of uninterrupted time.
Should renewing contact with treasured memories be as mixed a bag as this? Most of these reunions have gone swimmingly – genuine happiness expressed by all parties at such long awaited and yet never expected reunions. Cries in the dark of night ring out: “Oh my gawd!”, “You’ve been doing WHAT for the last umpteen years??” “Holy Shit!” “I can’t believe it’s you!” and the oft repeated “How did you ever FIND me!?” A few of these reunions involve those old moldy scores being settled (most score keeping done by others of the horrible ways my razor tongue and sharp, caustic wit caused them damage eons past, while ego was yet forming).
Reunion has inpired me this week. Running the risk of lingering too long on memories best left behind, I shrug my shoulders firmly into the mantle of the Alumni / Reunion Website Brigade and dive headlong into the abyss seeking more murky contact from the past.
Stay tuned, fair reader – I’m sure all this dredging up of muck and mire will lead to excitement soon. It’s about damn time – this has been the winter to end all winters.
You guessed it – New England has topped it’s yearly average snow fall (usually around 46 inches or so for the season) by a long shot – over 100 inches of freakin’ snow this year. Add the rain to it, find a fireplace to curl up in front of, that special curl up buddy and pass the whisky – it’s been a long, long, long endless-seeming winter…. It is now safe to say you will never hear me utter the phrase “oh, but it’s so pretty” when it snows anymore…
