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Living like an Irvanian in a universe filled with Dweasels

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ďOh, Iím a lumberjack, and thatís okayÖĒ

May 22, 2007

This afternoon I was field-testing the hammock in our back yard, enjoying one of the stunningly beautiful days we have frequently here in Northeast Pennsylvania. My wife was a few feet away digging in the garden. Well, actually, she was digging an anti-tank trench. Iím not sure why she would be digging an anti-tank trench in the back yard. I donít think tanks would be able to make it up the steep embankment on the southern approach. But I digress.

So there I was, lying there in the hammock, a dachshund sleeping on my stomach. I was day-dreaming, watching the woodpeckers and chickadees and sparrows and catbirds and cardinals and grosbeaks and bluejays and orioles and condors circling overhead (odd that they would all fly in formation like that), and looking at the treetops. The leaves have come out full-force now so itís nice to lie there looking at the treetops and pick out the different types of trees: ashes, oaks, sycamores, pines, walnuts, dogwoods, andÖ the larch.

That made me a bit sad: whenever I see or think about the larch trees, I remember that routine from Monty Pythonís Flying Circus: ďThe larch. The larch.Ē It makes me feel old. It reminds me of my old circles of friends, who quoted Monty Python lines with rapidity and relish. That was 20 years ago though. The Monty Python TV series ended about 35 years ago, and their most recent movie was about 23 years ago. My friends and I had seen every episode and every movie enough times to quote them all, but young folks today have barely heard of Monty Python if at all. Time, and comedy, has moved on.

This makes me sad because it reminds me of all the old friends I havenít seen in many years. I reminds me of all the circles of friends Iíve had over the years:

The Oscoda lunch gang: Kato, Swatson, the Greater and Lesser of Two Evils.

The Bentwaters Hat Club: Bill, Todd, Ed, Steve, Bob, Lenny, Phil. (Photos here.)

The Bloomsburg Area Gamers (BAGS): Doc, Mister Spock, Reeb, Bill G, Nick, the Ogre who later called himself Random, John Zed who hated to be called John Zed, Brett, Jim, the Bodnars, the Mabies, Billbo, Raymond. (Photos here.)

The Hopatcong Gamers (HOGS): John, Mike, Larry, Replacement Larry, Ricardo, Pete, Phil, Marty, Bob, Chuck. (Photos here.)

The Friday Night Irregulars: John C, John N, Nick, Terry, Paul, Vince, Dick, Sean, Young Stephen. (Photos here.)

Not coincidentally, all but the first of those groups were gaming groups.

Doc and I and our wives get together once in a while for lunch, and I see some of the Hopatcong and Friday Night gangs at the big wargame conventions once in a while, but a lot of those old friends I havenít seen in a long long time.

Is this what itís like to get old?

[Update March 2013: I've since reconnected with several of these old friends from Oscoda, Bloomsburg, and Hopatcong via Facebook. Some things do get better with old age.]

This article was filed under:
Getting Old
May 2007 articles
Irvania.com webmaster: Dave Ferris
The content on this page was written: May 22, 2007
Last updated: June 11, 2016