23 x 23

Bob Seger started "Against the Wind" with it seems like yesterday, but it was long ago . . .
and though there are other things to write about today - like the apparent readiness of the clunky echo machine as it churns to life, ready to belch out bile and swill in a rattle-and-hum stream of attack on the patriotism of Barack Hussein (didja hear that middle name, little toadies of all things righty) Obama - but today they pale by comparison to nostalgia.

Twenty three years ago, on a Saturday almost like today - okay, its cooler here now than it was on the first one - but LOST and the Mrs. left behind their broods and the two became one. "Left behind" now there's an interesting notion. LOST could talk of the ways in which the brood should have been left behind - the older bro who went past his 2 drink limit and started shadowing the sister of LOST's sister in law's husband - back then they didn't call it "stalking," and it was only temporary - just that day. But the story filtered back to the brood that "Mrs. LOST's sister had been rude" to the boy. And, the story stuck, for months thereafter, the way such stories do when they're told by sources with impeccable credibility. Even though Mrs. LOST had only one sister, who was in the wedding, and much to her great good fortune never had any contact with said erstwhile stalker wannabe sibling. Aside from the memorial service for LOST's dad seven years ago, the wedding was the last time the entire brood was voluntarily in the same room with one another. Oh, LOST could write volumes about that, but there's so much more.

The beauty of the day - a Santa Ana wind made it much like Summer. The turnout of people from various corners of the world. From the dank recesses of grade school, all the way up the ladder through the college days - they were there. There was Jenny's crooning old bluesy numbers into the mic near the end of the nite, a sound to behold for sure. There was "Myron Dobbs" holding court and swilling champagne like the market was crashing tomorrow. "Old Ed" and his spouse made an appearance, fashionably late as was their custom of the time. There was the infamous cake incident - the sharing which became the smush and run and nearly turned LOST into a victim of Reception Rage. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, and instead LOST was awarded the title of "idiot son in law" instead. So much better. Ah, the attempt to bring our Peace Corps friend Paula to the ceremony, by taping it and having mutual friends "talk" to her. A great idea that lasted until 30 minutes before mass time. Oh, the best laid plans . . . There was the money dance and the tossing of garter and bouquet, and the night at the Westgate, the latter of which will not be blogged about, so HA!

There was this agreement between the LOSTs about no presents this year. It's an off year, twenty-three. Not a milestone. That's 2 years away, right? Only looking around the room its apparent that every year of staying together, growing together, comforting each other, bickering at each other and loving each other - each one is its own milestone, one that has been achieved by comparatively few within our own circle. Is it luck, fate, karma, or all/some/none of the above? LOST has no idea. It has to be the combo plate, looking back, across the two decades plus. What a day it was, and what a time it has been.

So here's to you Mrs. LOST, my friend, my lover, my partner in this enterprise of scraping by and moving on. Here's to 37 more just like it, too. Sixty, it has such a nice ring to it, you know?