Murph. Depue. Max. Anne. Janet. Linda. Wendy. Me.
The core gang. We hung around and got ready for life. We made mistakes, had fun, got in trouble, got drunk together, fished, drove, skated, swam, laughed, cried a little sometimes. The heady days of high school. There were others in and out of our gang, but the core of guys was pretty tight. The girls were on and off girlfriends and mostly just friends.
The missing: Linda, Janet and Wendy.
The dead: Murph, Depue, Max and Anne.
The survivor: Me.
When we sat around the fire on the beach, or in the snow on the pond, or in the basement or in the “Apple Tree”, every once in a while someone would ask “I wonder who will be last?” I can now answer that question: Me.
The missing may be living or dead. Women change names and get hard to find, and in the ramp up for the 50th reunion serious looking happened. Some of the class of ’58 just dropped off the radar. Missing and presumed married.
So, effectively, I am the lone survivor of that august group. Occasionally I lift a glass or have a thought about those days and those friends. My job is to remember them. My guess is that most of the gang is remembered by their families or other friends, but who knows the fun and sometimes dark tales of us collectively? No one. Just me. So it may be time to write more tales of those days and those friends. Some are not so pretty. Some are already written. Some, a few, never will be.
Image:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/26/And_Then_There_Were_None_US_First_Edition_Cover_1940.jpg
The core gang. We hung around and got ready for life. We made mistakes, had fun, got in trouble, got drunk together, fished, drove, skated, swam, laughed, cried a little sometimes. The heady days of high school. There were others in and out of our gang, but the core of guys was pretty tight. The girls were on and off girlfriends and mostly just friends.
The missing: Linda, Janet and Wendy.
The dead: Murph, Depue, Max and Anne.
The survivor: Me.
When we sat around the fire on the beach, or in the snow on the pond, or in the basement or in the “Apple Tree”, every once in a while someone would ask “I wonder who will be last?” I can now answer that question: Me.
The missing may be living or dead. Women change names and get hard to find, and in the ramp up for the 50th reunion serious looking happened. Some of the class of ’58 just dropped off the radar. Missing and presumed married.
So, effectively, I am the lone survivor of that august group. Occasionally I lift a glass or have a thought about those days and those friends. My job is to remember them. My guess is that most of the gang is remembered by their families or other friends, but who knows the fun and sometimes dark tales of us collectively? No one. Just me. So it may be time to write more tales of those days and those friends. Some are not so pretty. Some are already written. Some, a few, never will be.
Image:http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/26/And_Then_There_Were_None_US_First_Edition_Cover_1940.jpg
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