Once again, I will be heading to the Post to sip a few cocktails and hang with The Usual Suspects. Iâ€™ve known most of them for about twenty years, so they definitely qualify as old friends.
Last night I attended a wedding (my Best Manâ€™s daughter), which was attended by a handful of friends I have known since high school and at least one of them since seventh grade. I hadnâ€™t seen them in more than thirty years. The Brideâ€™s father didnâ€™t tell me they were coming, and he didnâ€™t tell them I was coming. He only told them that there would be a â€œsurprise guest.â€
Although weâ€™ve all changed in thirty plus years, we recognized one another instantly, and in two minutes the thirty years evaporated. Everyoneâ€™s hair has turned gray to one degree or another and a couple of the guys have lost much of their hair (I took a fair amount of ribbing for having kept all of mine).
Even though everyoneâ€™s appearance had changed (thirty years will do that to you), I noticed that none of their voices had changed at all. When I closed my eyes when people were talking, it was 1968 all over again. We were seated at the same table, which gave us plenty of time to re-tell old stories, laugh hysterically and generally have a great time.
At the end of a terrific night, we exchanged phone numbers, e-mail address and promises not to let another thirty years go by (as if any of us will live that long).
I, for one, intend to keep my promise.