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Saturday, May 14, 2016


Are you still chums with any of the friends you hung with in your early 20s? Yeah, yeah, there’s the wonders of Facebook reconnecting us with everyone we ever knew (and, in some cases, don’t want to know again) but I’m talking about the real, honest to Bast, supportive, helpful, not judgmental, there-for-you-in bad-times-and-good friends. Are they, 25+ years later, still on your dance card?

Certainly, as we go from crazy wild, city living singletons in low level McJobs to responsible, career (even career lite) cultivating, mortgage carrying, possibly connected/married, maybe kid popping parent types, shit changes. There’s less time, none of us live just down the street/in the next building over/a quick T ride away anymore. We’re not all down the pub at 5:15 sharp anymore either.

Our 20s are mega action packed. Most of us are leaving home and school for the very first time. HEY, I'm an adult now! I'm OFF LEASH! No one to give me the hairy eyeball or a raft of shit when I come home drunk or tripping my brains out. I can bring boys home!

Yeah, so the 20s came with a giant side of poor decision making. //snort//  I’m speaking strictly for myself here. You can judge your own adventures and malefactions for yourself.

Right after I stepped through adulthood’s door, I was diagnosed with Nf2, had my first brain surgery, went scrambling for health insurance paying gigs, got dumped by my first serious beau (AT the hospital, the night before surgery!) and had a wickedly hard time finding likeminded individuals to call friend. My pump was beyond primed for some wild ass, unbright indiscretions.

I drank too much, smoked too much, ate too much, slept with the, ding-dong, WRONG people. By the time I hit 27 though, I was calming down and getting my shit under control. It was then that I met The Amazing Bob – Mister Exciting Yet Mellow. DAY-um I’d hit gold, silver, platinum and a motherfucking load of diamonds. He was a ginormously mondo inspiration for me to continue getting my feces sorted.

Now then, incredibly, apart from TAB, I do still have a bosom buddy, a dear friend who managed to survive my wild years. Hillel. We’ve been close for over 30 years. He’s been at the hospital with me (for my surgeries and TABs), he’s listened to me kvetch (as I have for him) and, perhaps most important, he’s regularly joined me in my nasty pizza and vino habit. Sure, there are others from that time – folks I’ve happily reconnected with on Facebook BUT Hillel’s been there for me throughout. Most assuredly, I’ve gotten on his very last nerve at times and vice versa but, hey, that’s what good friends do. Amirite or what?!

What happened to other playmates from Donna’s Wild Years? Eh – some got burned out on maximum strength Donna (and who could blame them!) and some burnt me. The rest? Just life – moving, family, aging’s increased introvert tendencies, the shifting focal points of our lives. Like continents, friendships drift and that’s OK.

Still, I’d love a status check on some of those long sailed away chums. Where’s Phil and is he still in a band? Playing out? What about Paula? Is she still a drummer? Still married to that Berklee prof? What about Dan? He played bass with The Flys for awhile – what happened next? What about Mary – is she still making those crazy papier-mâché hive type sculptures? Did Joe ever write his brill novel?

You may be thinking, oh just Google them. They’re all probably on Facebook. Yeah I would BUT, given that we were buds during my altered states years – I don’t remember their last names and, sometimes, not even the first. I’ve generally got hazy impressions from that decade. *sigh*

I’m much better now though. RILLY!

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