Thursday, July 24, 2014


A group of we fraternity boys will be getting together in early August at the home of one of us on Martha's Vineyard.  We will tell tales exaggerating our history, ask if anyone has seen so and so, and is so and so still married to that goof, and whatever the hell happened to this one and that.

And we will relay to each other how we know we are on the other side of the hill.

Here are some signs that I have noticed lately.

I typically give a welcoming talk to the parents of our incoming students.  We have several orientation sessions throughout the summer.  I am the guy who comes in and says, on behalf of the college let me welcome you.  Then I make some comments about the salient parts of the school.  These meetings are often the first events of my day. So today I was ready at 815 to greet these parents as they entered the lecture hall where I would be welcoming them.  And I saw that one of the parents was wearing a sundress.  And she had tattoos.  So, now the parents of my students have tattoos.

My long term memory is unbelievable. The fraternity boys often go to me for the history of an event that for them is fuzzy.  However, my (and their) short term memory is from hunger. When we gather we often trade stories about how our short term memory is shot. I am now having to say to myself, "You put your keys in the bag" when I put the keys in the bag in order for me to remember that I put the keys in the bag.  I arrived at work on Tuesday and was aggravated because I had intended to bring a blank check so that I might pay a bill that was sitting in the office.  Later in the day I went to lunch, grabbed my wallet to pay, and saw the blank check that I had placed in the wallet but had no recollection of having done so.

My Thursday night old man doubles is going on without me. Still can't move to my right.

I kid the young director of admissions in our college because she has limited recollection of songs, movies, books, or tv shows from my era.  Today I asked her about the Jose Jimenez show which was popular in the 60s. She, of course, had no clue. Then the dean came by.  I asked him. He had no clue. Felt like Methuselah.

Yesterday this group of fraternity cronies was shattered by the news that one of the brothers--not one who regularly meets up with us, but one who had once-had succumbed to cancer. We had all seen him at a reunion a few years back and he looked healthy and so full of life.  Died in a hospice.

I see throw back Thursday photos of former students from when they were my students. And it felt like a stiff wind hit me when one of my first college students posted pictures of her grandchildren.

If we throw the old football around on the Vineyard, it ought to amuse the neighbors.

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