I heard a name today that brought a thirty-seven year old memory back. It comes from my first summer as a camp counselor and is tied to something one of my 12 year-old campers said.
He was telling the tent about his first kiss and was asked by one of the guys if it was a French kiss.
Without hesitation he told us it was American and shook his head as if it was a ridiculous question.
Can’t tell you the last time I saw or spoke with this particular guy, can’t call him a boy any more as he would be 49 now.
I haven’t any idea if he remembers that moment but I know for certain that my counselor from that summer does as we are still in touch and we sometimes kid around about it.
Usually it is applied to something different, like “was that a French t-shirt you purchased?”
It is always followed by “no it was American” and we laugh regardless of whether anyone else understands or appreciates it.
That is the joy of old friends, shared experiences last a lifetime.
You Kissed Me First
Some shared experiences are remembered differently and depending on your particular relationship it may be considered funny or disturbing for recollections to be different.
My middle sister and I sometimes laugh at some of the memories our youngest sisters have because it is like they had a different life.
Though in fairness I can’t blame them because there is a large enough age difference that some experiences would have absolutely been different.
During a family trip to Disneyworld my middle sister and I took off and explored the parks on our own while our younger sisters stayed with our folks.
There was a brief time during elementary school in which we all attended the same place but that was short lived as I moved on to junior high while they were in elementary and was starting college by the time they hit high school.
You never know where some things will take people. One of the long time readers left a comment on Don’t Read Johnny that reminded me of that, especially when he mentioned Men At Work.
Heck, that brought up memories of the 8th grade camping trip and playing Spin The Bottle with a group of kids from school.
At school we laughed about it, sometimes awkwardly and sometimes proudly. We were a group of White, Black and Korean kids who were more interested in gaining some experience than what kind of background the other kids had.
A couple of those kids have died since then. I think breast cancer took one and an accident took another. They were old enough to be adults but young enough for us to think how sad and unfair it was for their lives to be cut short.
Been making the rounds around Texas again and looking at other places that are better reached by plane than rental car.
So I am loading Audible with more books to read, er listen to and downloading some more Howard Stern interviews because if I have windshield time I am going to fill some of it with something other than just staring outside the window.
But there will be other moments of silence when I just let my thoughts wander and let the scenery remind of people, places and songs.
Won’t be counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike this time around but will probably absentmindedly murmur something about let us be lovers and marry our fortunes together and follow up with telling Kathy I am lost and I am aching.
Hopefully it is a decent rental car or that last part about aching may be way too real. 🙂
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