What It’s All About

In a few hours I will get on a plane from my hometown in Cincinnati and make the trek back to Jordan.

I have had a 54 day sabbatical from the blog, and while, yes, I have taken a vacation from the tap-tap-tapping on the laptop, I have been steeped in the luxury and abundance of summer.

About two weeks ago I was in a beautiful 19th century house in Cambria, California, a bed-and-breakfast that Anne and I secured during our drive up the coast of California, and I looked over at the breakfast table and spied a coaster with the curious query: What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?

I laughed and wondered what IT really must be all about. I looked back at my summer—a period of eight weeks of modest trips (Wisconsin, New York, and California) and memorable meals and meaningful conversations. Indeed, I decided to linger once more on what the luxury and abundance of the summer of 2008 held for me. I did no splashy foreign trips (I live in a foreign country now!) no intensive “National Endowment for the Humanities” seminars, neither labored over a major move, nor excavated stones or built walls. I ate and talked with people I hold dear to my heart and soul.

It was a quite a summer.

There was the dinner with Dawn, a friend since the Bicentennial of the United States, and we went to see our iconic high school AP history teacher, the irrepressible Mrs. Michaels. We three hadn’t been together in 20 years, and it was glorious reminiscing.

There was the night that Sylvia made her mouthwatering pulled pork for my family at her house, when summer was young and we had plans for movies and concerts and walks. There was a lunch at Sylvia’s just last week when summer began to fade, although I don’t think our friendship will. She invited her dear mother and our delightful high school English teacher, Mr. Justice. Lunch that day was about a four hour event. Dare I say we are Olympic lunchers?

There was the day deep in July when I decided to do a “Central Ohio Victory Tour” and drove nearly 500 miles in one day and got to enjoy three meals with three exquisite people. I met the divine Devane, my dear Sharon, at a Cracker Barrel to which we both drove hours just to catch up and re-connect. I then visited my 5th grade teacher, Miss Wilson, the woman to whom I owe the most in my educational career. Then I drove to Heath, Ohio, to see Tracey, the earth mother of the Denison Singers in my freshman year. I only got to spend 2 ½ hours with each friend, but what a day of sweet meals and conversation.

There was the bi-annual visit of old friend Tony to Cincinnati. He drives 100 miles to see me, and we go out for Indian food. This August was especially nice since we commemorated the 25th anniversary of our friendship. I can’t ascribe enough adjectives about his greatness.

There was breakfast with Debbie at First Watch—our regular breakfast meeting point and opportunity to revel in our 28 years of friendship since the 1980 All Ohio State Fair Youth Choir. It is a smile-fest as our gratitude beams.

There were meals and conversations in museums—with stellar Aunt Dot and Jim at the Cincinnati Art Museum café, and with wondrous Kate and luminous Fareeda at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and a fancy-schmancy dinner with Christy at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

There was a picnic outside on the deck of the Polcari house with the Khosrowshahis—two families that have been kinder and more generous than I might have imagined.

There was an indoor picnic at Doris’ house—with her famed potato salad and roast chicken. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried that potato salad. This was a meeting of an old friend and a new friend as I brought KA friend Rehema in tow as we smiled and talked and heaped on the potato salad.

There was the rib and corn roast last week with my father and brother-in-law. For 50 years my father has gathered with this Police Masonic organization of grumpy old men as they try and outdo each other in consuming great brats, metts, corn and ribs. Many ask how my dad has stayed so thin…like I know?

There was the visit from the ever-lovin’ Sue, from northern Ohio—more of a “drive-by” visit since neither of us could fit in a “proper visit”—we stole some time away while she was shopping in Cincinnati. No matter—all good no matter what the time.

There was the late-night dessert festival with the amazing Unger family. If most of the family did not have to get up for work the following morning we might have just talked all night. A recipe for success—great dessert + great friends=great satisfaction.

There was the Italian meal with my Italian friends, the Canterinos. I haven’t taught a child of theirs in 8 years, yet every visit is fresh and alive and upbeat.

There was the evening with high school friends Doris and Sylvia at Shelley’s house, enjoying the low humidity that was the hallmark of this summer of 2008. Memories and the luxury and abundance of summer…enjoying the renaissance of friendship.

There were the California meals—with Anne and cousin Susan at Tom Ham’s Lighthouse in San Diego. Susan is one of those family members you wish lived so much closer so you could always call up and just start checking things out. Then there was the dinner with Anne on the beach at the “Del,” the Hotel Del Coronado, the beach resort of Some Like It Hot fame; or maybe the view was even more stunning up in the reaches of Big Sur, at the famed bohemian Nepenthe.

There was the family meal at Green Lake, Wisconsin, the place of annual retreat for my family, in days long gone by, and where my mother networked and learned with such passion on church missions ideas. We could feel the warmth of her her laugh and smile all over this oasis of beauty.

There was the steak dinner night before last with the Flowers—friends of my parents for 50 years, and as I have been told, I upstaged the bride a bit at their wedding, since this handsome infant was passed around with delight at their reception. They have stood by us and loved us since they forged their friendship a million years ago.

There was the spaghetti dinner with the Griley cousins—almost three hours of eating and talking and catching up. Eight of us sharing memories of the past, describing 2008 summer trips, and looking to the future for gatherings. Have I ever enjoyed them more?

There was the breakfast in the diner with Nancy, a mother of a dear student, but also a friend who offers loyalty and kindness at every turn. There was a breezy and beautiful lunch on the terrace at “the club” (always courtesy of the phenom Anne!) with Flavia, Meg and Diane. There was lunch with ebullient Diana, the math goddess, and another friend for the ages. Every time we part there is that ache again—how I wish we could teach together again.

So what did I do this summer? I ate. I talked. And with the conclusion of each meal, as the hugs ended and I sighed back to my car, every time, I felt blessed at the people I have in my life. It was the summer of the Great Meal and the Great Conversation. Of course I didn’t get to see everyone I love. I wish there had been two more weeks of summer so I could have enjoyed the Great Meal and the Great Conversation in the south: in Texas to see Judy and her clan, or Stephanie in Atlanta, or the Gastonia gang and the Charlotte clatch. But hopefully, there will be more Great Meals and Great Conversations.

I come by all this Olympian eating and talking quite naturally. For years my mother would whisk us off to school so that she could jet over to Frisch’s for her crucial morning coffee and visiting time. Now my father goes to the Imperial Diner 5 days a week (the “Institution of Higher Learning” as he affectionately calls it) where Pam presides over the daily meals and conversations of the ROMEO clique. (ROMEO as you might recall stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out). They revel in their self-proclaimed parallels to the fictional Boston bar in Cheers.

But I digress…the other morning I was talking with my dad’s friend Chris, a 93 year old man who has filled life’s bucket of joys and sorrows to the brim, and still smiles and cracks wise. I mentioned to him that my father had enjoyed the birthday breakfast party Chris had thrown for himself a few weeks earlier. He had taken about 30 friends out for breakfast, treating them himself. Chris leaned over to me, smiled, and said, “Well, you know John—friendship really is what it’s all about, now isn’t it?”

An exclamation point for the summer of 2008!