I can remember as a kid, returning home after summer afternoons playing in the dirt at my friend Danny’s house (he had some of THE FINEST dirt in the neighborhood), Mom would stop me at the front porch, order me back down the steps to the garage door, and make me take off my clothes before allowing me to enter through the basement.
This was not an infrequent occurrence.
Last night I got together with some of my best friends from my hometown to pick out a Christmas tree for our old high school hangout, a tradition now in its 23rd year.
Karry’s last words before I hit Route 40 for Uniontown: leave your clothes outside when you come home.
Even though the admonition was to prevent the smell of smoke, not the mess of mud, from entering the house, it made me realize how truly fortunate I am.
First, to have grown up with friends who have proven just as awesome to raise a glass with, as to play ball with, hang out at the arcade with, and destroy Tonkas with.
Secondly, to have known the love of strong women who’ve made sure I don’t make too much of a mess of things.
2 thoughts on “Deja vu ….”
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Karry is amazing. Thank you for sharing this story!