And I remember how you loved me
Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye
I remember every moment
Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye
I remember every moment
Of those endless summer nights
-Richard Marx
Since I had to head inside for another, Max and I both
retired from the pool for the evening.
We headed to the fire pit so I could conclude it with a nightcap. As I watched the flames crackle, it
brought my mind to the midway point of summers past…The 4th of
July. My college roommates’
parents would allow us to occupy their shore house for that one holiday
weekend…and we took full advantage of their generosity. Friends from near and far would descend
upon the beachfront town of Ocean City, NJ. It became a yearly tradition.
What started innocently enough as a few friends turned into
a commune of college kids. Invites
were sent out to let all know the exact dates. Funny thing about that invite though. Its starts back when we roomed
together. My friend studied
profusely…talk about ying and yang…and he would place himself under his
“studying” light. One time when we
were coercing him to put down his book and head out to drink a little early…a
now politically incorrect word was attached to him. He didn’t budge from the binding and we nicknamed the
illuminating source the Fag Light, and whoever spent time studying under it
well…was a Fag. We never meant it
as a gay slur and my roommate never fought the moniker we hung on him. Since he was the host, these yearly
gatherings down the shore came to be known as the Fag Fest…and the title was
prominently posted atop the invite.
I guess it was his way to get back at us all. I didn’t think twice about it…until my Mom questioned me
months later. Apparently she took
the invite literally. She already
had her doubts about me since I had not brought a girl home since high
school. Mom had forgotten the
summer after I graduated she had thrown out my ex-girlfriend from the house as
I was trying to reconcile with her.
I told my Mom “You want her to leave? Well then, I will NEVER bring another girl home again”. Those of you who know me understand
that I tend to hold grudges…Forever.
Well Mom sat me down and had “a talk”. I had NO idea where she was going until she made reference
to the invite and brought up my gay cousin. Too long to explain the title and too tired to rehash the
old reason, I simply gave her my reply with a wink…that will keep her guessing.
The holiday weekend was here and it was off to Ocean City,
NJ. It was a dry town…so it was
our job to make it wet for our whistles.
Before the causeway was a liquor store…location, location,
location! We would stock up like
the 19th Amendment was being reinforced. If you arrived at the house early enough you might be lucky
to get a room, or even a bed. At
its height, the attendees spilled into the yard and into tents. My old roommate attended Grad School at
Penn State, his brother at Lehigh…and Alum from all three colleges filled the
tiny house and plot of land. The grill
glowed and the suds flowed..and flowed.
When supplies ran low, we passed around the hat…well, actually it was a
ceramic cabbage…but you get the idea.
Some might stay a few hours, others would stay a few days. I would be the Jackson Browne roadie of
the group…the first to come and the last to leave. It was told that the weekend was not officially over until
Walsh goes…so I would stay just a little bit longer.
At night we would muster up a few designated drivers and
convoy off to Sea Isle City…for that was where the bars were. The Ocean Drive, The OD, was our bar of
choice. Two bands provided
constant music. In 1989 I would
run into a college ex-girlfriend, well maybe not girlfriend…but she was
definitely an ex. She had moved on
and it was I who was still smitten.
This information was not unknown to her and she used it to her advantage. Seeing this, my roommate made it his
mission to maneuver me away from her…much like my Mom did 6 summers early. Maybe they were both on to
something…keep the X in ex. Last
call came and it was time to leave, and I did so alone. As we arrived back at he house, the few
of us with stamina stayed on.
Breaking out a few brews and the BBQ leftovers we would plant ourselves
in front of the TV. It was time
for The Twilight Zone marathon…as we continued on ours. Sun up was only a few short hours
away…and we would be starting the whole process all over again.
Eventually the 80’s turned into the 90’s and straight
through 2000. Girlfriends became
wives. Beer became wine. Backyard BBQ became fine dining. The crowds diminished to the original
few who started this long journey.
Even the Fag word had long since vanished. And eventually, so would I.
My 4th of July’s are now spent at home. Travelling for me consists of the trip
from the fridge to the pool…and back.
Max now rested his head on my leg and looked up into my eyes…and I knew
it was time to go inside.
Maybe I could see if The Twilight Zone was on TV.
could read your writing over and over.
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