Personal Blogs

My dad and his best mate and my mum and her best mate married each other. The best mates emigrated to the US of A when us kidlings were still -lings. Because of this flit there's an odd dynamic when we get together—time machine.

For us kids: we've spent many holidays together, in our heads we have snap-shots of our growing-up process. We didn't see each other often, but when we did, we spent much more non-fragmented time, than the norm, with one another. They were girls, we were boys. Which might have mattered.

For the 'dults: They pick up where they last left off. They behave as if nothing has happened in the mean time. They talk about a shared past, they drink more, they have the kind of fun with one another which we, as offspring, think that parents don't have.

When I wended my way to Anderson central this afternoon to meet the group I was a wee bit wary. I shouldn't have been.

Everyone was white-haired and much wee'r than they once were, there was a bit of wobble-of-hand about the filling of the wine glasses, but the minds were still sharp. And there was Paula.

Paula and I had much fun poking our parents, we're good at that. Paula and I remember too much.

My parents, and her's were showing all the signs of intoxication. Both of us believe that as responsible progeny, we say nothing in this regard.

We had our photo taken together. If our parents die we won't see each other again, maybe. We looked over

Our parents were doing awful thing to steak, in a kinda half-assed drunken fashion. Which was beautiful, for they must have fun.

I said goodbye in the same half-assesd fashion that I alway do. I've lost somone that I wanted to be my sister.