Living La Vida Loca

My life is super crazy now. Coming in off a whirlwind of a reunion and finding folks I have not seen in thirty years takes a toll (oh the emails I have been exchanging with old friends.)

Especially crazy is when you must hit the ground running first day back due to relocation our office to a new and vibrant arts district, transforming from a warehouse to a gallery/retail space and all the while creating and publishing numerous collateral materials promoting one of our premier events, Dia de los Muertos. The Celebration of Life festival (presented by Xico Inc. in partnership with Vision Gallery) is on Saturday, November 1st. I am busier than the proverbial one-armed paper hanger.

So... here is a picture post of some other reunion highlights so I can process those beautiful moments... and then I will go collapse in a heap until tomorrow morning...

Tony
He was my junior high crush and was absent during much of our high school years. He was the first boy to almost kiss me. I was so shy and he was hesitant. The first kiss was not to be Tony. I always wondered about him and hoped he was doing well.

When I saw he posted to Classmates.com I contacted him and we emailed for a brief time. Life got busy and we again lost touch. I was surprised when I checked the RSVPs to find that he was coming to the reunion.

He was not in any yearbooks and not many folks could remember what he looked like. He was our mysterious attendee.

He roared in on his Harley and walked slowly to the check-in table. He took his time looking at everyone and slowly began to recognize and acknowledge his former classmates. Suddenly, with what I can only describe as a war whoop, he grabbed me in his arms, swung me around in the air and planted an overdue kiss on my lips.

Now my connection with Tony is beyond language. He is an active leader in the Native American Church of North America and has become, in the past week, a spiritual teacher. (Blame him for me not being around to visit my favorite blogs.) He has filled my emails with many fine details about ceremonies and rituals and today, with his guidance, I smudged our new location to clear past energies and welcome good spirits into our new space.

My Soul Parents

Bari was my bestest friend ever in high school. We raised some hell back in the day. Her parents, Gene and Faye... I love them so. I will never forget their kindness and generosity. When my parents could not afford to buy me a homecoming outfit... Gene and Faye. When my parents were unable to help me afford my senior trip to Florida... Gene and Faye. I will be forever grateful for their presence in my life. They are just the same... just as lovely and so alive.


Bari with Soul Mommy Faye at the family barbecue they held the weekend of my visit.










Me and Soul Daddy Gene.





















Joe
We became close friends toward the end of our high school years. He possessed (and still does) one of the most creative minds of all my friends. Like many classmates, he had disappeared. I have been looking for him for years. One of our mutual friends called me on the last day I was there to say he had found Joe and gave me his number.

I called him and he said he would leave work early to meet me at TGIFridays in the airport.

"I am surprised anyone remembered me."

"How could I forget you?"

My sophomore year in college. My mom was dying. I needed to see her and took a chance on getting a ride home for the weekend with no guarantees for a ride back. I had to see her. I knew it.

At 7 pm on a Sunday night in late September I had failed to find a ride home and took another chance. I called Joe.

There was no hesitation in his answer. He drove me back to school... a two hour drive each way. On the way down we drove through many small towns. Joe pulled out a bottle of Old Grandad and with each little town we passed through he made a toast.

"Here's to Bicknell." He sipped and passed the bottle to me. I really needed to forget reality at the time. I sipped.

Despite our alcohol consumption he delivered me safely back to school. I remember telling him how much that meant to me. Without any expectation of my returning the favor with anything more than a hug, he left and drove back home.

He gave me the gift of my last chance to see Mom before the seizure that left her unable to communicate. I will never forget Joe and I will never lose touch with him again.