More of This

A note I sent to an old high school friend recently. 

Hey, dude . . . . 

As you know I've been trudging along for a while (36 years in August!) in A.A.  We call it a spiritual movement which I do believe to be true although we can get a little smug about this from time to time.  As I've grown over the years I've had the occasion to think about the relationships I've had with family and friends during my life and to contemplate what to call the connections I've had with so many people.  I recently reconnected with a guy from high school who was three or four years behind us and he surprised me by calling me one of his best friends even though we had not been in touch for a long time.  It got me thinking about the rich tapestry of friends and family who have come in and out of my life over the years and how amazing it has been to get to know people and love them.  You know . . . it's funny how often I try to put someone in a category and then ask a lot of myself and of the other person in terms of connectivity and contact and the frequency and intensity of all this stuff.  I've gotten a lot more generous in how I think of people who have been in my life; more loosey-goosey and open-minded.  The people I've been in frequent, uninterrupted contact with since I was a kid; the people who I'm grown close to in just the last few years; people that I've become disillusioned with and those who used to disillusion me before I grasped their nature; old friends that I no longer see but who hold a dear place in my life; what family means; and on and on and on.  My friend, I have thought of you often over the years and it never ceases to bring a smile to my face.  Reds games and Madison Bowl and talking Keith into letting us go to your house on Scroll night so we could get stoned and listen to music and finish up the sports page much more quickly than we would have if we had stayed at school. 

I send this without obligation, brother, just a love letter from Southern California, thanking you for being part of the rich tapestry of my life.  If I'm not mistaken the last time we saw each other was in a bar in Boston where a few of us got together to toast BYL before he left for Brazil on his first Foreign Service assignment.  My recollection is that I was walking toward the bar or the bathroom when you strolled in.  "Hi, Seaweed," you said, deadpan.  "Pete," I replied and continued walking.  We caught up later, of course, although those details escape me, but that perfectly timed exchange was priceless.  I was pretty newly sober so that has to be 35 years ago.  Fuck, how did we get so old?!

Peace, brother.  All is well All is well All is well.