Ant Hills and Picnics

Over the last week or so I encountered an acquaintance at a number of different events and we did the smile and nod at every instance. We were never as close as (I suspect) each of us thinks we were. 

Memory is funny that way (as opposed to the way Andrew Lloyd Webber has it). As fas as I'm concerned, that's okay. It's a large anthill but it's an even bigger picnic. I would ask that you mind the footprints on the checkered tablecloth.

I'm struck by, as the English say, how a person can be 'clever by a half.' He has (for him) slyly alluded to topics he's read in this space on days previous, I guess, wondering if I would notice (Yep) and how I might respond. Welcome to here we are. Population, us.

We were never The Owl and the Pussycat, more like Crusader Rabbit and Rags or Tom Terrific and Manfred, The Wonder Dog. And now it seems the least we can do is to wave to each other. And that's fine. Life, as Billy Joel once warbled, is a series of hellos and goodbyes.

Many of us are still auditioning to be the people we'll spend the rest of our lives in being. I, for one, never could figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up and I solved that problem by not growing up. Now that's clever by a half, as we dined on mince and slices of quince which we ate with a runcible spoon.
-bill kenny