Tomorrow Andrew and I leave for my
55-year high school reunion. Holy cow! Fifty-five years!
I have been sick. Quite sick. Hoping so much that tomorrow and the weekend will find me well.
I have been sick. Quite sick. Hoping so much that tomorrow and the weekend will find me well.
I'm sure that between me and my
friends from high school that I'll see there, I will look the oldest, my face
the most wrinkled, my hair the whitest. I have always looked old, all my life.
Once upon a time I liked that fact. Now guess how I feel about it.
But here's a
good thing: I'm not fat.
I hope Andrew will enjoy this time in
Southern California. (I capitalize the "S" in Southern because I have
long considered
Southern California the true California. Live with it.) I will
be glad he's with me. I want to show him where his dad and I grew up, and I
want us to see the ocean a lot. I miss the ocean, almost every day. And many days I wish to be
there, driving along PCH and watching the water, as I did long ago in my mother's 1955 Ford hard top
convertible. Sweet car. Beautiful drive.
Okay, I'll say it. Those were the days.
Okay, I'll say it. Those were the days.
I loved growing up in Santa Monica. I know much has changed there. I will have to live with that for three days.
1 comment:
Dale's mom had a flashy yellow & white 57 Ford with a continental kit on the back. We really thought we were hot stuff draggin' Center in that car. Dale's brother was always punching holes in the muffler to make it roar. Those were the days . . .
Even though our bodies & looks are quite delapidated, don't you still feel young inside? So here is the song for the day:
Don't you know that it's worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart.
For as rich as you are, it's much better by far
To be young at heart.
And if you should survive to 105,
Look at all you'll derive out of being alive!
And here is the best part, you have a head start
If you are among the very young at heart.
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