I probably should have paid more attention to the blogs I've read over the past couple of years. I'm already 6 whirlwind days into my journey, just writing these first words now, and I'm not sure exactly how I'm supposed to lay this out. So, i'm sort of creating it as I go along. Thank you for reading. Excuse my scattered thoughts and often abrupt changes in subject matter. I'm a little impatient at times, and I think I suffer a bit from short term memory loss. Or perhaps its just that i've covered a lot of miles in just a short time, seen so many faces from the past, and shared more hugs than I deserve. It's a bit overwhelming for my brain.
I arrived at Newark Airport in New Jersey mid morning on June 21. My lifelong friends, Sue King Aponte and Michelle broussard Napalano picked me up. Or maybe it's Michelle Broussard Napolito. Hmmm...I'm not quite sure. But at least there's facebook for me to look it up (which I probably should have done before beginning to write this blog). The last time I saw her she was still a Broussard. And I actually think she goes by Michelle B Nat on fb. Well, in any case I can tell you she doesn't answer to anything at 12:30am when you are yelling below her bedroom window after you and Sue King have locked yourselves out. I know what you're thinking, but it was innocent, just two old friends catching up on the porch, unaware that one must unlock the door from the inside prior to heading out. The New Jersey we grew up in NEVER locked its doors. It never even crossed our mind to make sure we could get back in.
Anyway, you could call her whatever you choose and she's not going to wake up. Luckily, it turns out I'm pretty good at breaking in. Who knew?
We had an impromptu, informal 30 year reunion in Atlantic Highlands. Was it always such a pretty town? Were my parents really dumb enough to sell the year before the Wall Street ferry went in? I couldn't believe how beautiful it is. And it's especially magical at 3:30am when town mayor Regina Hawley is giving you the tour in her black urban assault vehicle. I have no idea how many people that thing seats, but she mentioned 8, unless Sue King is sitting in it facing backwards, in which case it's 9. Either way, she was kind enough to take us on a lovely driving tour of the town, complete with stops in front of my old house, Michelle's old house, her new house, and the Donohue's house they still live in. They are sound sleepers. We admired the blueberry paint job, apparently the second one this year, from Mount Ave, about 5 feet from their porch. To say that Regina isn't any quieter than she was when we were kids is an understatement. It's remarkable that they didn't call the cops, but Regina pointed out to us that she owns the cops in Atlantic Highlands, so we didn't ask any more questions. It was especially magical when she lit up the stone bridge with her headlamps while we attempted to take selfies. (See photo below)
I've skipped the entire early part of the evening. I apologize. I told you I am a little overwhelmed by it all. Sue, Michelle, and I had a lovely dinner with Jeff Hall at a trendy southwestern eatery on First Ave. Yes, I said trendy and First Ave in the same sentence. When we were growing up there was nothing trendy about First Ave, unless 6 brightly lit, family owned pizza places and a local dive bar are considered trendy. The meal was lovely, the company was awesome, and we picked up as if all those years between visits had never occurred. Of course there were plenty of things I didn't remember, such as going to Jeff's agricultural fraternity formal in a tight leopard print Betsey Johnson dress. I didn't think there was a thing wrong with that. But apparently the other girls there, in their high necked victorian era couture did. The point is that we laughed and reminisced with joy and fondness at the memories, even the ones I can't quite repeat in this blog because there is probably still a state highway police warrant out for Jeffries arrest. Ahhh, the 80's.
We continued on by foot to a place called Off the Deck where we were joined by Missy Curtis, Kathy Custer, Linda Anderson, Michael Nanney (yeah, I know, can Im gonna run down hill pick up my pants at angies. Not brining my phone its downloading. you believe it?), Regina Hawley, Danny Gerber (whom my parents affectionally referred to as the Bay Avenue Smoocher), and Scott Melski who so kindly picked up the check but don't tell his wife. All of the women have different last names now which I'm not sure I know, except for Kathy Custer who is absolutely, stunningly the same and available to be swept off her feet by a hot 30 something. It was as though nothing had changed, except Michael Nanney wasn't violently punching me in the arm, and we weren't drinking those little Bud nips in the 8 pack, and everyone was nice to each other and happy to be together, and we weren't writing notes asking to rate one anothers friendship on a scale of 1-10, and the only one who was crying was me. Oh wait, I was always the one crying.
The love fest continued until they kicked us out at closing, at which time the town tour began which brings me to the end of this chapter and the beginning of this blog.
