September 29, 2011
Our next-door neighbors, Dick and Margie, have a lot in common with us. They are about our age, with kids our kids’ age. They are facing issues of growing older just as we are.
We try to have a drink together every few weeks. We plan on one hour and we keep to it. We laugh together, especially at ourselves. We can repeat the same stories, assured that the other couple has already forgotten them.
The other night we were talking about summer camp, a new topic for us. Margie and I agreed that summer camp was a formative experience for us, and although my camp was in Ohio, and Margie’s was in New Hampshire, they had much in common. We discovered that we both liked riflery, although I think I earned more bars on my sharpshooter medal than she did.
When Margie broke into song with “Peace I ask of thee oh river…peace, peace, peace”, and I joined her in singing this staple of camp songs, our husbands were quick to remind us that our hour together was over.