Tonight, I had dinner with the band.
That’d be Griffin, Paul, Doug, and Taylor. All my “mates” as the kids would call them, but way of Bluey.
It was very real conversation. The kind that is about something. The kind that tries, with some kind of strain, to say something about the way things are or ought to be. I’m very lucky with my friends that this happens not too infrequently.
What we were talking about had to do with war, grandparents, the stories we tell, and what kind of stories our kids will tell.
It was one of those nights where you feel as if you really do have it all.
I referenced my blog here when we were talking about how quickly we forget the details of things, or how we want to know our aging parent’s stories but don’t know what format to get them in, and the whole conversation led into a kind of gladness for this little blog for you kids and what it does for me while I gather and write it.
We went to Trailhead, a Thursday tradition of the band’s. I had a bowl of jambalaya. We all had two rounds of beer, the second on the house. That was a kind.
Good night.