March 15, 1982

As a young man I worked at a grocery store that was about a mile from my home.

My buddy, Tom, lived 4 doors up the road, and we did our best to make sure that our schedules were lined up.

More often than not, we would walk to and from work, following the railroad tracks that led to a clearing right behind the store.

We also had major crushes back then, and when you’re 18 it’s all about the blank page before you.

You work hard on your dreams, and everything is pretty dramatic.

On March 15, 1982, we grabbed some beer and we walked. We didn’t have to work that afternoon.

Just two buddies, drinking and talking and dreaming and worrying about the girls we were so desperately in love with.

The more we drank, the heavier the conversation got. I recall that it was a beautiful day. 

Unseasonably warm. 

At one point, I lamented how pointless the day-to-day struggle seemed.

“Think about it. We won’t ever remember today. All that we are talking about. All the sunshine. It’ll just be gone. We are going to live our lives and never even remember this day.”

Cut to March 15, 2022

40 years after I uttered that ‘We won’t ever remember this day’ line.

“Happy Anniversary!” Tom wrote.

And like the pages of a calendar flipping, I thought of all the time in between.

So much joy.

So much heartache.

A whole lot of life’s mileage on both of us.

“I don’t regret anything,” I said.

Tom echoed my statement.

I know he probably remembers the very brand of beer that we were drinking.

We recall the names of those girls that we couldn’t live without.

And we did all right…

…recalling that very day and how much it meant to our lifelong friendship.

Happy Anniversary, buddy.