The Breakfast Club

This morning, in a last minute sort of deal I joined 4 guys that I've known since we were about five years old for breakfast. Of course, we greeted one another with smiles and a couple of wise cracks, and then we settled in.

At the Cracker Barrel.

Now these are guys I've seen at Stones concerts, on the softball field, back at the campsite, with beers in their hands, with tears in their eyes, at the birth of their children, at their weddings...everywhere. We know everything about one another, and we all carefully fit into our places in the circle of the friendship.

"Do they have egg beaters?" Russ asked.

"I've been trying to lose weight," I said. "A fiber bar for breakfast, turkey sandwich for lunch...no between meal stuff."

We went straight from a discussion of diet to a talk about our various aches and pains. Bad shoulder, bum knee, sore hands from painting.

Then onto the kids. Who is saving what for college. What sort of music the kids are listening to.

"Emminem is awful," John said. "It scares you to even listen to it." (And they used to think the stones were bad-asses).

Our discussion on the Bills was restricted to how much money they cost the county. Our broaching the subject of the mosque was thoughtful but ended with a shrug because we all know, at this time, that perhaps we can't change the world.

And it was one of the most enjoyable mornings I've spent in a long time.

Because we ended up eating more than we should have, we laughed a lot at days gone by, and what we had coming up. Everyone was relaxed and comfortable in their own skin.

1978 was the first time we stepped on the softball field together as a team. 32 years had passed. We'd all faced death, a couple faced the end of marriages, we've all had children, laughed and cried.

"What day does Halloween fall on?" Russ asked as we were leaving.

"How the hell do we know?"

"Just trying to make plans to get together again. We can set up poker or dinner, or a few drinks out. Does anyone have anything planned for that Saturday?"

"The 48 Hours Mystery is probably new," I said and we all laughed.

A lifetime of memories served with grits (which are godawful, by the way) and the Cracker Barrel gravy over biscuits.

We stood in the parking lot, shaking hands. Remembering sure, but still looking forward to friendships that have lasted a lifetime and show little sign of slowing down. Even if we don't see each other much anymore.

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