A Greek, a Filipino, a German and an Irishman walk into a bar …

A dear high school friend of mine came into town last week, one whom I hadn’t seen in over 15 years and one night we got together with two other dear high school friends, one of whom I hadn’t seen in 13 years, and reminisced about the days when we were cool, toned, stretch-mark free and clueless as to how many times we’d eventually utter the phrase BECAUSE I SAID SO in our lifetimes, despite vowing to each other more than once that we’d never become our parents.

Seated at this table is:

Someone who doesn’t have any stretch marks.

Two others who wish I were talking about them.

A combined total of 81 years of wedded semi-bliss representing 5 marriages and 1½ divorces.

Four people who never romantically dated one another.

Two maids of honor and one bridesmaid.

The parents of nine future productive tax payers of America.

Four parents who just now crossed every appendage they own and said a little prayer.

Two people who have sent kids off to college.

Two others who wonder how that will feel.

A redhead who inspired this.

Someone who went sky diving and wears hooker boots. But not at the same time.

Someone who accidentally killed a mommy duck and cried hysterically before stopping traffic to collect all the baby ducklings so she could raise them at her house.

Someone who, seconds before this picture was taken, shoved all of his and another’s beer bottles in front of someone else who had only drunk water that night.

Someone who exited the ladies room and them immediately entered the men’s room, despite only drinking water that night.

Someone who claimed in her defense that the restroom alcove was dark and confusing.

Three others who didn’t believe her.

Someone who once skipped school to go four wheeling with her loser boyfriend.

Someone who once skipped school to go with her.

Someone who runs marathons.

Someone who runs 2 miles and then vomits.

Four people who went to Cine 8 to watch a movie twenty-eight years ago and then risked getting killed crossing Ridge Road at midnight because the only thing better than a movie with friends is a movie and an ice cream sundae at Friendly’s with friends.

Two people who, late one night twenty-eight years ago, waited on the side of a road for their loser boyfriends to pick them up and who were, instead, driven home by a gym teacher who not only had great timing but also a handy dandy lecture on the dangers of waiting on roadsides late at night for loser boyfriends.

Two people who were smart enough to go to their senior ball together as friends so they weren’t stuck like someone else whose date who was going through the motions because he thought he was going to get some later.

Someone whose senior ball date got NOTHING.

One who, twenty-three years ago, lived with another and her husband for awhile, and then went on to live with the mom of yet another, all because she felt she couldn’t go home until she had completely screwed up her life.

One person who walked another out to her car late one night thirteen years ago and told her that she was stronger than she thought she was and that divorce was not going to get the best of her, who then gave her a hug and let her cry on his shoulder.

More than thirty years of memories.

Three of the best choices I ever made.

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