Here goes another nonsensical post about nothing. It's therefore probably best that you don't read this at all. That being said, onward!
I have somewhat settled into my routine with the new job. I enjoy the flexible hours where I can clear the office by 1pm and be up in the mountains hiking or out on the lake in the kayak by 2:30. It is an idyllic existence. Whether it ultimately is a worthwhile one remains to be seen. I suspect, given my history, I will quickly tire of routine.
My thoughts have turned to the past and friends lost. Of course in this day and age, friends are rarely just lost. Google and the rest of social media ensures that past friends and acquaintances can almost never be just gone. My friend queue on Facebook is ample evidence of that. And yet, somehow they do.
I am reminded of friend I grew up with. Billy had everything I didn't. A single child, he had a room to himself and parents that indulged him with most of the cool things I knew my parents never could. He was the first (and only) kid in the neighborhood to get a trampoline. His dad helped him build a hang glider that he jumped off his shed with (and subsequently broke his arm). In high school he even played backup in the one decent garage country band that my high school produced.
However, I lost contact with him when I left home to start my adult life. As unimaginable as it might be for kids today, that actually happened back in the 80s. It was probably the mid 90s before life slowed to the point that I thought of looking him up. What I found was both sad and inspiring. Billy had juvenile diabetes as long as I had had known him. While the ravages of that disease spared him through high school, it didn't hold up much past that. When I finally did 'find' him again, he was blind and had trouble getting around. On the plus side he had married and had what seemed to be a wonderful wife and faith. The disease took him a few years back, and, at the time, his only reflection of existence on the internet was a faint echo from Google. Now, with the sheer weight of data flooding the cyber world since his death, even that echo is mostly gone, survived only as a short obituary hiding behind a paywall of the local newspaper. What idiot thought is it a good idea to put obituaries behind a paywall? Real classy Commercial Appeal).
This post as usual has wondered well away from what I originally intended, but that's ok. I think the point is the same. Perhaps my writings here will leave some mark (hopefully not an ugly brown stain), that I was here and had some thoughts worth musing over. Oh, and the title and song above? Better times my friend, better times that we will never see again - unless we actually talk to one another.