What The Weekend Was

We had Saturday and Monday to ourselves.

Slow moving, peace filled days. Doing things together, doing things separately, digging on the cats, the screened in porch, the garden, the fountain, the weather and the overwhelming sense of how it feels to be human when you are away from work.

Sunday we cruised on up to Old Orchard Beach Maine for Cori and Sarge's annual barbecue.

Beautiful day, easy ride. Lounging in Cori and John's back yard with our Maine friends.

Friends who were introduced to us through Cori and Sarge.

I have a theory that quality people attract quality people. This crew is proof positive.

Cori and Sarge knew a whole hell of a lot of people. We met a lot of them.

Not all of them are people I would want to spend a lot of time with.

Then again a lot of them are.

These people are our friends no different than any other friends we are close to. Except they are a hundred miles away.

Can't pop over for a drink, can't go out to dinner on the spur of the moment. But whenever we do get together there is warmth and conversation and trust and laughter.

Kind of like bullpen friends.The guys who come in out of nowhere and keep our world rolling.

That analogy did not go the way I wanted it to but I still like it.

Robin and another dude did the barbecuing so I was off the hook. No pressure. Just eating  and drinking and socializing.

Sarge and Kevin were not there. They will never be there again.

It was a huge void and one that hung there unavoidably. I doubt there was one person there who did not think about them.

It was a good and a laid back day.

We were the last to leave.

As we were preparing to motor on south Cori said she had stuff for us.

She gave me one of Sarge's racing jackets. A very nice jacket. Nicer still because it was Sarge's.

I checked it out, draped it over my arm and let the tears roll out from under my glasses.

Bigger still. Cori gave Carol an afghan. An afghan Carol had crocheted for Sarge shortly after he graduated high school.

Shortly after Sarge graduated high school he took off for Wilmington, Vermont to write yet another wild chapter in his life.

Pancho's Wreck. There was a restaurant in Wilmington called Pancho's Wreck. Somehow Sarge and a lot of his friends ended up there as cooks and, probably, all around roustabouts.

Initially Sarge was living in a room above the restaurant which was not heated well or maybe not heated at all.

Carol and Sarge have always been especially close. In one of their conversations he told her how cold his room was.

Carol crocheted this afghan for him.

That afghan stayed with him for all these years, from Wilmington, to New York and to Maine.

Now it has come full circle.

That was Carol's turn to cry.

We spent that day in the presence of friends and in the absence of Sarge and Kevin.

We came home with a jacket and an afghan. We came home with reminders and memories and feelings too deep to express adequately.

It was a glorious day in celebration of so many things meaningful.

I came home feeling a love for my wife that is impossible to put words to.

On one level I though how similar she and Sarge were. Always giving to others. Always considering exactly what they need and then delivering. Sometimes giving things to people they didn't even know they needed or wanted.

I considered how hard it must have been for her to receive that afghan and how good it must have made her feel to know that Sarge treasured it enough to keep it around for his entire adult life.

Sunday was a very good day.