We spent too much time in Memorial Auditorium.
We flung ketchup packets onto the ceiling in Kriner Diner.
Diffy's fries were the only cure for hangovers.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
All You Have To Do Is Call.
Last Sunday I get a text message from Lara,"At cabin, tree in front yard exploded, OMG". Of course I was freaked out-- Lara texting, and using OMG. Gave me the willies. Then I started to worry. Was this a cry for help? Were they in trouble? First problem, where the heck is that cabin. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Maryland. South of that Frank Lloyd Wright house. Lots of snakes. Is that enough info for 911 to send help. Leading to problem #2, what are the odds they even know what 911 is in Garret County? I text back, asking if they are ok or if they needed anything.
Wasn't it just yesterday that Connie pantsed, or rather 'shortsed' Ross in Kriner Diner? So where did all these grey hairs come from and why is there a minivan in my garage?
We may eat better now. We certainly drink better beer. Who notices receding hairlines and proceeding stomachs. We are still Masquers. Everytime we converge again, sometimes not seeing each other for years, all those mortage payments and incompetent bosses slip away.
We remember watching the sun come up over The Wall. We discuss the McMansioning of America. The past makes us who we are, but we don't need to live in it.
You Know I Can't Hear You When the Water's Running