Years Ago, too
I haven't spent this much time in DC since the summer of 2005, which I now refer to as "That Summer." This bit of time off has been good for the soul revival - not only for the reasons listed in the previous post, but also has provided some time for reflection. (notice this post is written in PARAGRAPH FORM rather than list form. Hey, I used to call myself a writer, remember?!)
I spent the last week at the beach, which I don't think I have done for that length of time since college. Most of the kids in my group of family friends were there two years ago - That Summer - and were back this time around, and brought friends with girlfriends and friends who recommended good books, and wore anti-Yankees t-shirts, and pro-Redskins T-shirts (written in Hebrew). I had a long talk with my 17 year old god brother at the end of a walkway, toes in the sand, "talking about life, straight" as he called it. And sometime since That Summer and now my entire life has changed (ok, a solid 85%), and these once little people have turned into those I would have considered peers.
So the only way to conclude a week like that (additions: Klosterman cover-to-cover, picking crabs, corona and Jack Johnson on the beach, canasta, 9-11 hours of sleep a day) is to make the epic drive to Nissan Pavilion and attend a Dave Matthews concert. And though the songs we odd, and the energy was off, some things will never change. A boy, tall, starts the talk and mentions he is a Yankees fan, loves New York City. Season tickets to the Redskins since the 1960's. Arms wrapped around me, attempted kisses. But not this time. That Summer, sure. Romantic kisses to DMB Ballads with friend of years is the DC-metro recipe for summer love, but this time there is none of that. "I'm going to grad school at Columbia," I said. Out of my league, he replied. And yes, most likely. Nice to meet you, anyway.
Where once upon a time, That Summer, there was a lot of confusion and loss and 85% of life coming to a screeching halt ready to turn in run in a separate direction, there is still something to be said for a hot, humid, DC night - singing the songs of 1997 and drinking beer in parking lots with strangers to reminisce about years ago, and recognize that though some things may stick, quite often the rest is out of your league.
I spent the last week at the beach, which I don't think I have done for that length of time since college. Most of the kids in my group of family friends were there two years ago - That Summer - and were back this time around, and brought friends with girlfriends and friends who recommended good books, and wore anti-Yankees t-shirts, and pro-Redskins T-shirts (written in Hebrew). I had a long talk with my 17 year old god brother at the end of a walkway, toes in the sand, "talking about life, straight" as he called it. And sometime since That Summer and now my entire life has changed (ok, a solid 85%), and these once little people have turned into those I would have considered peers.
So the only way to conclude a week like that (additions: Klosterman cover-to-cover, picking crabs, corona and Jack Johnson on the beach, canasta, 9-11 hours of sleep a day) is to make the epic drive to Nissan Pavilion and attend a Dave Matthews concert. And though the songs we odd, and the energy was off, some things will never change. A boy, tall, starts the talk and mentions he is a Yankees fan, loves New York City. Season tickets to the Redskins since the 1960's. Arms wrapped around me, attempted kisses. But not this time. That Summer, sure. Romantic kisses to DMB Ballads with friend of years is the DC-metro recipe for summer love, but this time there is none of that. "I'm going to grad school at Columbia," I said. Out of my league, he replied. And yes, most likely. Nice to meet you, anyway.
Where once upon a time, That Summer, there was a lot of confusion and loss and 85% of life coming to a screeching halt ready to turn in run in a separate direction, there is still something to be said for a hot, humid, DC night - singing the songs of 1997 and drinking beer in parking lots with strangers to reminisce about years ago, and recognize that though some things may stick, quite often the rest is out of your league.
posted by AllDeTime at 7:58 PM
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