Frank the Tank
Back when we were in the 7th grade the chant that was all the rage in our circle of friends was:
Frank the Tank, President of the Chub Club.
It was for our close buddy, Frank, and while he wasn't thrilled with it, he laughed along and tried to come up with something brilliant to bust our chops about.
Well Frank turned 50 this past week and on Saturday we all gathered to surprise him.
He wasn't surprised at all.
Yet at least some of the guys who were there back in the 7th grade made it to the party. We had all shared so much through the years. Beer. Softball. Camping out. Fights over girls. Learning to drive. Birthdays when we were first allowed to drink legally.
And the funny thing about seeing long-time friends (I won't say old), is that the conversation from back then still seems to be running at the same pace.
There's no hiding crap from guys that know you that well. You can't pretend. They call you on the bullshit.
And that's a real comfortable feeling, you know?
But this was certainly a different party.
The pace, for one thing, is a helluva' lot different.
No one is trying to set a record for drinking beer, or eating chicken wings, or boasting about anything really. It's all just comfortable.
Yet we did talk a little about our health problems, I suppose.
My hip.
All of our vision.
Bum knees, blood pressure, doctor visits, MRI's...
...but we're still here, and it was done in a joking manner (of course) with very little whining. We didn't stand and talk, mind you, but we had a bunch of laughs.
Then we started talking about bedtimes.
I believe the night owl had a bed time of about 10 o'clock during the week. We joked that the 6 o'clock showing of the news, twenty years down the line, might be the one we watch as we get ready to go to sleep.
And a couple of people started to yawn at about 9 or so. One member of the group looked as if he might fall asleep right then and there. I honestly would've left a half an hour earlier than I did had I felt like getting up.
"I don't have the ambition to leave," I believe I said.
And it's not always that way. There are bursts of energy every now and again, but the instant passing of time wasn't lost on me.
"I still think there's room for me to be a better athlete," I said to someone.
(That got a good laugh).
But here we are at 50.
"Frank the Tank," I said as I shook my friend's hand.
He didn't even seem to hear the long ago tease.
Now I'm thinking there's a better than average shot that he couldn't hear it.
Frank the Tank, President of the Chub Club.
It was for our close buddy, Frank, and while he wasn't thrilled with it, he laughed along and tried to come up with something brilliant to bust our chops about.
Well Frank turned 50 this past week and on Saturday we all gathered to surprise him.
He wasn't surprised at all.
Yet at least some of the guys who were there back in the 7th grade made it to the party. We had all shared so much through the years. Beer. Softball. Camping out. Fights over girls. Learning to drive. Birthdays when we were first allowed to drink legally.
And the funny thing about seeing long-time friends (I won't say old), is that the conversation from back then still seems to be running at the same pace.
There's no hiding crap from guys that know you that well. You can't pretend. They call you on the bullshit.
And that's a real comfortable feeling, you know?
But this was certainly a different party.
The pace, for one thing, is a helluva' lot different.
No one is trying to set a record for drinking beer, or eating chicken wings, or boasting about anything really. It's all just comfortable.
Yet we did talk a little about our health problems, I suppose.
My hip.
All of our vision.
Bum knees, blood pressure, doctor visits, MRI's...
...but we're still here, and it was done in a joking manner (of course) with very little whining. We didn't stand and talk, mind you, but we had a bunch of laughs.
Then we started talking about bedtimes.
I believe the night owl had a bed time of about 10 o'clock during the week. We joked that the 6 o'clock showing of the news, twenty years down the line, might be the one we watch as we get ready to go to sleep.
And a couple of people started to yawn at about 9 or so. One member of the group looked as if he might fall asleep right then and there. I honestly would've left a half an hour earlier than I did had I felt like getting up.
"I don't have the ambition to leave," I believe I said.
And it's not always that way. There are bursts of energy every now and again, but the instant passing of time wasn't lost on me.
"I still think there's room for me to be a better athlete," I said to someone.
(That got a good laugh).
But here we are at 50.
"Frank the Tank," I said as I shook my friend's hand.
He didn't even seem to hear the long ago tease.
Now I'm thinking there's a better than average shot that he couldn't hear it.
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