Time Travel

It's cliche to say, but ever so lovely that it exists -- that phenomenon where you are separated from a friend either in time or geography (or both), with little contact, if any, for great periods of time, yet when reunited it is as if there has been no separation at all.

I took a call on Saturday from a friend whom I haven't seen in years (perhaps as long as 6 or 7, maybe more) and had only rare email contact and maybe a call or two in that time. He, a radio programmer, was in town for some music week convention.

We were once incredibly intimate pals, and drinking (of the profoundly heavy nature) buddies. He and his wife named their first child after me (because, to paraphrase his wife, they weren't quite stupid enough to name me Godfather!).

We spent a couple of hours chatting in his Royal York hotel room and were thick as theives with stories (both the catching up and recollection varieties)within a very short time. The general consensus was that we remain surprised we survived those days on the southern prairies and in the foothills, those days when stupid amounts of alcohol were consumed as a given and doing so while driving was not yet evil.

I probably started this blog to recount some of those drinking tales, but I fear (with certainty) that they would only serve to produce great boredom -- even though a colleague of my friend sat slack mouthed and wide-eyed as he listened to several of the tales before reteating with my old pal as they left for dinner.

The boy who is also Steven is destined for doctoring school in a year, and my friend looks not a bit different than when I last saw him. Strange how some things can make you feel both old and young again simultaneously.