Tag: old friend

LYLAS

Do you remember “LYLAS” or “LYLAB?”  We used to write that in yearbooks back in the day.  Love you like a sister.  Love you like a brother.  For whatever reason, we couldn’t write “love you” or “love” outright–we had to qualify it, disclaim it, with “hey, I’m fond of you, but only like I’d be fond of a sibling” as though claiming someone as family was less provocative or edgy than just saying “I love you.”

LYLAS came to mind at our gathering Saturday night when we were talking about yearbooks and the “profound” messages we’d written to each other way back then.  This was a gathering of our old tribe, a tribe that came together in the late 1980’s. This is part of my chosen “family,” the LYLAS and LYLAB folks that will always be dear to my heart. Some of that tribe I still see often, and some of that tribe I only stay connected to via Facebook or text messages, but they are still “my people:” people who I can settle into a comfortable conversation and rapport with whether it’s been 10 days or 10 years since I’ve last seen them, and when and if they need me, I will rush to them no matter how long it’s been.  Some of that tribe I’ve known since I was 5 years old, and I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed everyone until we gathered all together, Jello shots in hand, trading stories and laughter.  There’s a good energy when you gather “your people” together, a collective happiness and comfort that can’t be faked.

We gathered this time in memory of our friend Jason.  Jason was a smiling, positive person who passed away this month, a shock to us all given how much effort he’d given this last year to improving his health.  We are in our early 40’s now, this tribe, and while I guess we are middle aged, it doesn’t seem right than any of us could die so soon.  We still have so many dreams, so much more to do, and it is a terrible loss that our people, our connections, could be gone in an instant.  Jason, I will miss you; we will miss you.  I “liked” things he posted on Facebook just hours before his death, but I hadn’t told him anything important or personal in ages, because, well, I guess I still thought we all had plenty of time.  I was wrong.

So, to my people, my tribe, wherever you are, whether you were able to raise a Jello shot on Saturday night or we raised it without you, please know that I LYLAS, LYLAB, just plain love you.  You are my people, the Deadbeat Club. “We would talk every day for hours; we belong to the deadbeat club.” Or if you prefer, we are the Breakfast Club, “demented and sad, but social.” No matter the name, you will always be my people.

Your Nose

I can’t believe you had a nose job.  Do you know what a regular person could do with that kind of money?  Good gawd, I could go on a week’s vacation, pay off a credit card, get a massage and throw one hell of a party, and I’d still have money to spare for what you’ve spent on something that didn’t freakin’ need fixing!

I was looking at our high school yearbook photos just last week at Scootster’s house when I was drinking all his beers…you were cute then, dorky cute, hadn’t quite grown into your calm, confident sense of self yet.  And as an adult, 4 out of 4 people that I surveyed told me they thought your nose was just fine and that you were a good lookin’ guy.

Ah, but now it’s your old nose.  Your old nose was fine.  We must talk about it in the past tense.  Your old nose.  Now you have a nice new nose.  I wonder if I’d still recognize you…I’ve known you since we were Minime’s age, I wonder if my brain can wrap itself around the idea of your new feature–I have the photo you took of yourself on the plane last year, such a good photo, but would I know you today?

It’s just weird for me to think about.  I like to see the familiar angles of my friends’ faces as the years pass.  I take comfort in that familiarity.  And you chose to change that, your choice of course, your call to make and really not my business, but it’s so strange to me, hard for me to understand it.  I don’t choose my friends because of their appearances or their checkbooks or the cars they drive, so in that light, you are my friend no matter how old or new your nose…I send my love, I wish you a speedy recovery and when all’s well, I want to see.  I hope the change brings you confidence and peace.