Old Friends

Back in Yellow Springs, Ohio a lifetime ago, I had a glorious 6 months as an Antioch College student living in an off-campus house with some 14 friends. We cooked our own meals and because it was the Spring and Summer semesters, we ate outside on the side-porch watching the world go by in this sweet little town. The house, owned by the college, was called Drake House and we got something of a reputation as the Drake House gang. 

 

Time marched forward, as it does, and suddenly (always a surprise!), that memorable time was 53 years ago! Within that group of fourteen people, I’ve stayed in touch with five of them. Two live in Portland, Oregon and I see them two or three times a year when I visit my daughter and grandkids there. One lives in Portland, Maine and our visits are more infrequent. One lives in New York and we cross paths once every few years or so and one lives just outside of Yellow Springs and every time I revisit that marvelous place, I get to re-connect with her. Two have become lawyers (the good kind!), one a social worker, one a drama teacher/poet, one living the country life with horses and creative projects. 

 

Though we and our peers seem to have failed miserably in our zest and conviction that we would change the world, we, in fact, contributed greatly to the great advances in human culture—feminism, gay rights, racial equality, sustainable ecological living, the healing power of the arts. All of that is in danger of being washed away by the tsunami of encroaching fascism that has surprised us all. But I believe those advances are just sheltering in the storm, biding their time to come forth again and blossom. And while we had many discussions as college students as to whether we would “sell out to the establishment” when we turned 30, in fact, we all have stayed true to our authentic selves and held fast to our vision of a better world. 

 

All of this came up because I had a dream last night about meeting one of them and discussing our plans for our “Golden Years.” In a flash of inspiration, we both shouted, “Drake House! Let’s buy it and form our own intentional retirement community!” Cook meals again together, sit on the porch chatting with passersbys, gather around the piano and sing “We’re stealin’ on back to our same old used to be.” 

I awoke with a smile and actually wrote a group e-mail to them all—Gabe, Steve, Gretchen, Liz, Bobby—sharing the idea. Not that I imagine we’ll do it, but it actually would be sweet. Maybe we could use our remaining time to plan the second revolution in hopes that it would be more successful than the first!

 

In any case, old friends. Such a pleasure to sit with those who knew you when, marvel together as the passing of time and the unfolding of our lives, enjoy remembering the old stories— like when Steve and I hit upon a scheme to get the attention of attractive girls. We would ride our bikes by them and then fall off the bike in front of them and count on their sympathy asking us if we were all right. (Miraculously, our young bodies could do that without significant injury!). Of course, it never worked, but Ah, youth! To be so zany and delight in our stupidity!

 

And speaking of old friends, I went to a meeting yesterday with James and Sofia and amidst the business of planning our next Orff Summer Course, Sofia surprised me with a gift. No occasion—she had just seen it and knowing me so well, knew I would love it. And she was right! Check it out! Table corn hole!

Old friends see us and know us in such profound ways. And we take equal pleasure in seeing and knowing them. One of life’s many blessings. Long live Drake House!