I spent the evening yesterday and all day today with a pal I haven't laid eyes on in over 30 years. Dave and I spent a summer working at Philmont Scout Ranch, in Cimarron, NM back in 1987. We were kids. We did stupid things. We touched the edge of life. We survived.
Dave held me in his lap one afternoon. I was bleeding profusely. I'd just managed to take an unscheduled head-first dive off the side of a cliff. Dave was my belay. Dave gathered my body into his lap and did what any thinking person would do. He yelled for help.
That fall is a defining moment. I don't want to put more into that day than was actually there. It was a fall. I was not seriously injured, though I could have been. I was not facing death, though I could have been. It was just a moment in time.
Dave and I lost touch over the years. Life happened. He married and divorced. I married and divorced. He had two sons. I did not. We both remarried. It appears we both got it right the second time 'round.
Dave and I spent the day touring around Nashville, my home town. We sat in the back yard and told stories. We sang. We drank wine. We regaled Kim and Clara with tales of youth and idiocy. We shared a meal of Spanish tapas and more wine. It was a lovely day of reminiscing.
Kim took Dave to his conference this morning. He'll be in town this week. We may find time to hang again this week. We may not. Either way, we will not allow another 30 years to pass before we see each other again.
Friends, real friends, the ones who love you and respect you, last.
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