Thanks for the memories

You know I’ve often mentioned Connor’s (and now Josephine’s) affinity for mud and puddles.  In fact I have a whole bunch of pictures to prove that the mudding thing wasn’t a one-time incident.  Connor got some new mud boots and immediately put them to use while Josie got Connor’s froggy boot hand me downs and had just as much fun.

Another funny thing happened this weekend.  One of my old college roommates flew down from Minnesota for the South by Southwest music festival.  He’s in advertising and one of his clients was sponsoring a showcase.  In any case, the showcase was definitely for a younger demographic and as we people watched and hit the open bar like ants at a picnic, some funny memories came flooding back. 

My buddy and I have talked frequently enough, kept in touch, called each other on birthday’s etc. but we hadn’t seen each other since my wedding almost 8 years ago.  And while in College let’s just say we threw some pretty nifty parties.  And I remember one specific time (settle down Dan, that’s not where I’m going) it rained, rained, rained on campus.  Baseball was cancelled so we started to go out and play a little football in the mud.  About 10 of us played for about five minutes and then decided to just go running around and doing pop-up slides, head first slides, and plain old belly flops.  As we got filthier and filthier, a photographer from the TLC yearbook staff and our newspaper started to follow us around.  I think we even made the Seguin Gazette (the city paper).  I no longer have those pictures, due to a long story, but unfortunately all my signed yearbooks, a lot of my old pictures and some sentimental stuff are just gone.  Hell hath no fury, but I digress.  And of course it wasn’t Nita. Hmm, I guess it wasn’t that long a story after all.

So when Dan flew in he came straight over and we started looking through the pictures I still have.  Most of them were party shots with ever-growing boxes of dip cans, and lots of smiles.  We identified the usual suspects, and went down the tangents of what happened at each of those parties, the after parties, trips to Whataburger for taquitos at midnight (or so) etc.  We laughed and carried on like we hadn’t been separated by 5 states and 1200 miles for the last 8 years.  We talked baseball, family, and about the event where he warned me we’d be the oldest people by perhaps 20 years (he was close). 

While I was looking around the show, there were lots of tween kids and even some just plain old children with older siblings and young moms.  What will I say in 8 years if Connor or God forbid Josie asks me to take them to SXSW for a grunge death metal/angst rock/ (or whatever the piss-off-your-parents music is of the day) show?  And how would I react if one of the older kids on our block offered to “look after them?”  Jeesh.  I’m not so sure I’d be cool with it. 

My first concert was Iron Maiden, Saxon, and Fastway with my cousin Peter.  I was in Corpus and he got us tickets and promised my parents he’d take care of me.  This was 1983, I was either 13 or 14.  Anyway, nothing bad happened, I had a great time and never felt I was in danger.  Actually I think I embarrassed a poor kid who was working as a bouncer.  He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt and I said, “How old are you?” He replied, “24.”  I said, “Cool, I went to an Iron Maiden Concert in 1983…about five years before you were born.”

I had a town car pick us up because it saves on parking, and is way cheaper than a DWI, and we told stories all the way home.  Once we got back, we popped on March Madness and my lovely wife had ordered take out Chuy’s Tex Mex (which Dan had also missed).  And when my sweet little Connor came in around 8 to sit with daddy before bed time I was almost completely asleep on the couch.

Really?  Am I an old man now? Did I grow up when no one was looking? I guess where I’m going with this all is that Dan brought back so many memories.  I had completely forgotten about that day in the rain in College even after watching both of my kids tromp through puddles and make mud pies.  And I have no idea how I’m going to handle the kid’s questions when they ask about music concerts much less festivals, or even if I’ll have the stamina to take them. Although technically, had I not had a dozen Maker’s I probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch.  By the way, when a college buddy comes to town, it doesn’t mean you have to drink like you were back in college, just a tip.  But why rob them of the same memories right?  I think.  I’m not sure I would have fared well in the: everything is on Youtube generation, but I mostly turned out okay.  This really is quite the dilemma. 

The best part is I guess I hope my kids make the kinds of friends that I have.  Dan said it best and I quote, “That's the one thing about having true friends... no matter the time or distance in between visits, you're always able to pick right up where you left off.  And I don't mean the drinking part of the equation. :)  Instead, I mean the laughter, happiness, comfort and all the other ‘stuff.’”  So I guess my goal is to raise kids who won’t get arrested (or at least convicted), will make good decisions, have fun, learn, grow, and make deep, long-lasting friendships. The kind of friendships that weather all distance and time.  Until then, enjoy the mud kiddos.