My bestest bud, Naomi, and I are collapsed in repreive next to my fire pit last Friday night, glasses of Reisling in hand, feet up on my wicker outdoor ottoman. Our children run and play around in the backyard on some crazy adventure as we lazily sink into the cushions to ponder present, past, and future.
The conversation winds around and at one point aimlessly wanders back to our college days. Naomi randomly observes, a crinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she does, “You know, how did we ever even get a hold of each other back then? We had no cell phones.”
“Or email,” I add as I sip my wine.
“And no Facebook!” she exclaims with a smirk of puzzlement, “Good gawd, we actually had to be in our dorm rooms to have a phone call."
“I had an answering machine,” I recall as I linger in the hallway of my memory for while.
“Hey Audra, it’s Cami. Let’s go to Theta Chi tonight!” “Hey Audra, meet us on the second floor of the library.” “Audra, it’s your mother. You’re bank account is over drawn again! Your dad is furious!”
Yep. That was it.
Answering machines.
“But what if we were out? How did we find each other?” Naomi's perplexed state growing as she contemplates the prehistoric life we once led.
“Um, we just ran into each other? Or we set it up ahead of time?” I volunteer with a shrug.
Naomi feigns shock and horror, “Holy crap, how did we even have any friends at all? It's a miracle I even know you!"
“I think we just relied more on serendipity back then.”
“In other words our social lives were a crap shoot? No wonder we ended up married to idiots," she evaluates, sealing her hindsight with another taste of wine.
I frown and look sideways at her as I state the obvious, “Um, it’s a Friday night right now. We have cell phones, email, and Facebook. And the only testosterone currently in our lives is in the form of your sons.” I glance back at the swing set that is currently doubling as a rocket ship in a childhood fantasy. I think they are pretending to shoot lasers at each other, and my daughter may actually be winning.
Naomi takes in the scene and surrenders. “Good point.”
“Maybe we should just pretend it's 1991 and throw it all back into the universe. You never know, a couple hot, funny, secure and emotionally healthy available men may just wander into my backyard.”
“Not likely.”
“Hey, how do you know?” I challenge.
“Because,” she deadpans and takes a gulp of Reisling, “I didn’t call ahead and leave an invitation on their answering machines.”
That exact same conversation comes up almost everytime we have people over. I don't even remember talking on the phone that often, but we always seemed to know where the action was. Heck, we used to have some of the biggest parties back home and people from every little town around us were there. How did they ever find out?? Wow were things different back in 1988.....Darin
ReplyDelete1991. You'd find each other "on main." That's the street. Up. Down. Around the pumps. Wash, rinse, repeat. Ahh. Those were the days.
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