Penny Lane

I went to college in a time of pet names.  My cohorts were known by names given in those first days-- Face, Skunk, Froggy, Motorhead, Angel, Arizona, Whale, Snowman, to mention a few. Not sure if this still happens. I've been trying to remember their real names. My memory is 50-50.  But I can still see their faces, their body language. That's funny, right.  I still have their stories.

I'm been thinking of the sunday afternoons we spent riding "up" which was really down, Humphrey Hill.
It's an optical illusion or ellipitical hill. I would love to go back there, even bring along the cuba cheese sandwiches and rolling rock beers.  I want to climb the mountain where the pasture called "The Heart" gave us a living room to talk quietly, or play frisbee with Billy's  wonder dog Seamus, or lie on our backs and stare
at the wide blue sky. We had so many hours of talk.  So many mouths moving. We were political and opinionated and outrageous. We were small but wiry.

I would give my eye teeth, perhaps half a ring finger to have an hour of those days.  Hmmm, let's see, I would choose the day we sat on the lawn in the quad  and listened to Tom Rizzo play his guitar. I loved listening to our dreams. We were going to change the world.  We did change the world.

Now another semester begins. Walking on campus, I overheard patches of conversation.   Social Media is actually anti-social.  A lot of people listening to music, or emailing or checking their text messages, or sending a message: " Where are you?  How was your first class?  I can't believe I have to buy books."


It's September. My big toe is still dragging in summer.  This summer was a wild ride.  The good and not so good news that affected our living day to day.  My thoughts, trying to make sense of what's happened. Friends who have passed; unexpected health issues; the blessing of good friendships-- being aware of  family and friends, hoping for the best; being there.