How I Met Your... Family?

Oni, Jen, Bob, Miles and MOI!

Way back in the Stone Age, the Age of Aquarius. the Age of Enlightenment, back a good 20 years ago — Bob, Jen, Oni and I became friends and lovers (OK, not the ‘lover’ thing all 'round -- y’all know how much I hate that word — but the friend thing, oh yeah!).

I was the production manager (ooooh, quake in awe of my big title!) of a mid sized offset pressroom, within a larger quick print company.  We had jobs to fill and a reasonably big, local company from which I could steal workers....oops, I mean ‘offer advancement opportunities to interested parties.’

Me being a serial socializing type, I knew a lot of folks in different departments and locations. I knew a lot about them too — whether they were good print worker bees or nasty ass, lazy and execrable print worker drones.

We were creating a quality control department so, naturally I thought of The Amazing Bob with whom I was already twined for life (not sure if he knew this yet but it was sure down in MY day planner). He was doing the Quality Control Rhumba in the copy department and, with his eye for print related butt cobras, I knew he’d be perfect as the main dude in our department.

Next I found Jen. I’d heard she’d graduated from RISD with a painting degree. My thought was that maybe she and I could connect and score gallery exhibits together. That and I imagined she’d be a good quality control type as well as a good foil for Bob’s nonstop humor.  (So look, I married him for more than his humor, his hilarity. He’s got a great ass too.)

Next came Oni. He was working at a distant locale — I actually didn’t know him already. We met at the interview — I immediately knew that he was the one. The gig was bindery trainee.

On one night, multiple hours into handfolding hell, I realized that Oni and I were kindred spirits. He and I were working on an onerous job together when I announced ‘oh yeah, I went to college for just exactly this shit’ (pronounced with snark so heavy it needed wheelbarrows). Turns out, he went to Berklee for jazz — alto sax. Clearly, he went to college for a degree in menial work too!

Our conversation took off like greyhounds at Seabrook. All that and, as it happens, I was volunteering for the Mass Center for Native Americans (and doing my protest bit as well) — turns out Oni’s Seneca.

Somewhere along the line, Jen and On hooked up. Hooked up and decided they were in for the long haul together. I kinda helped. I knew that Jen was wicked warm (understatement alert!) for Oni’s form AND I knew that Oni’s current squeeze didn’t deserve him...seriously.

A few years later, the four of us, plus cats, began cohabiting on the top two floors of a triple decker in East Cambridge.

Bob and I eventually traded in our shack up status for a real, honest and true marriage license (thus defying the hippy creed). Jen and Oni? Well, they're gonna beat our record for most years getting-the-milk-for-free. We went 17 years before donning the smallest handcuffs in the world (for a total of 27 years). They're coming up on 17 years now and both still saying 'oh yeah, we'll get to that next Spring. Right, Pie?'

We’ve been co-habitating as a foursome for eleven years now. We’d do the big ass anniversary thing but something always gets in the way. Cats! BBQs! Stupid surgeries! We’ll get there. We’ll have the party (or ‘pah-tee’ as Jen insists I pronounce it — complete with guilt trips ‘but yur fatha, the linguist, would be devastated if you pronounced it othawise!’) one of these days.

And you’re all invited!