Anniversaries

Went to my 10 year high school anniversary last Saturday. The timing with work was good since I could back up my brag of opening a wine bar with written assurances from two different banks. My high school class was incredibly small, and the reunion was maybe 35 people, spouses included. Two girls from my class are new mothers with six and nine month olds. Three of my former classmates fly for a living, for the Coast Guard, Air Force and privately for jetsetting millionaires. A good number of my classmates work for their dads, pretty par for the course here in St. Louis, but impossible for me since my old man never taught me how to intebate.

I got to see my old theatre teacher, tour the school and see what has changed. The former head of the school, who I absolutely hated was long gone and had been replaced by a younger guy who seemed pretty competent. I was a little bit worried that she might show up, since I had planned exactly what I wanted to say to her and I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself. Laura was there with me, which was great for the cool, hot wife bragging rights and so that she could get a little bit of an insight into who the hell "Teddy" was.

October 7th was our 1 year wedding anniversary, a sort of half anniversary since we were actually married in February. Laura's mom, Val and her boyfriend Bob were in town and we had barbicue and went to a new wine bar where Val gave the Italian wine selection a delighfully thorough drubbing.

October 11th marked a full year since we left beautiful, thriving, exciting New York. It's becoming a more remote spec in the rearview mirror, more abstract. I miss it sometimes, mostly the people. With some notable exceptions most of my good New York friends are leaving the city, and the New York that I used to know isn't really there anymore. This may be a stretch, but I sometimes liken the city to female characters in the Tom Robbins novels I used to read in college; beautiful, eager to engage you and completely indifferent whether you stay or leave.

The day we left, a New York Yankees pitcher crashed his plane into the side of a midtown building, snarling traffic and adding several hours to our exit. I looked out the window of our rented minivan and Laura said "we could always move back if we got really rich" it was a nice thought, but I knew it was goodbye.