An interesting experience

at least, this time, I got to talk to some people besides Lilac and her parents.  The teens at the last gathering were a little less than friendly. Some of them actually spoke to me this time, as did some of Lilac's kin.

People from Michigan are a little different.  Not a condemnation, just a statement.  Lilac's maternal grandparents proved to be interesting.  The grandmother felt a need to get me married off at the first opportunity while the grandfather seemed a confirmed Trumpist, one who felt that President Obama was a socialist.  Felt like I was being interrogated during much of the encounter.  Nothing particularly evil, but mildly vexing all the same.  I will get over it.  Besides, I am thinking I am entirely too sensitive anymore.

Val is dying.  She is a CCR friend from way back.  I remember her as an assertive 11 year old, one I was fond of all the same. She felt the same way about me.  I've witnessed her death process via facebook.  The experience has been sometimes excruciating.  Felt driven to unfollow her, which would mean I would no longer see her posts, but did not.  Seemed disrespectful. Her husband, Steve, does not think she will last the week. I have pledged to attend her funeral, which has been planned out and paid for, in advance, partly by a "go find me" page.  If I attend, and I won't be able to if it occurs this week, then it will likely mean an encounter with the Griffins, something I would rather avoid. Mike will insist on it. That's how he is.

Let's not borrow trouble. I am so bad at doing that.

not sure exactly WHAt THIS IS....

Val's passing will remind us all, once again, of our own mortality. The next CCR reunion, set for next year, is subject to be the final one for some of us.

Odd, but that isn't a particularly frightening thing to me.  Death is no stranger to me.  Been there and done that back in 1999 with my heart attack.  Went into full arrest and had to be shocked back to life. Nearly drown at age 8 when some playful boys pushed me into the deep end of a summer camp pool when I could not yet swim.  Then, of course, stared old man death in the face with every parachute jump (almost 50) in my military days and, during my cold war service, lived with the chance that I and thousands of others might perish in a conflict with the Soviets or Iraqis during Desert Storm.  So death is no stranger to me.

I've semi officially accepted responsibility for helping plan the reunion.  That, too, will surely bring me into contact with the Griffins, again.  Mike is sure to try and make the reunion all about himself, as he did during the last one. I am determined that he will not succeed. 

Something I really want to accomplish before the reunion is the writing of Mid the Hills, the saga of my years at Camp Chimney Rock. My portrayal of Mike in that story is morphing and I need to be careful not to morph it into unreality, particularly where Mike is concerned. His character is close to abnormal already, almost surreal in some ways. Don't want to give him what he seeks and that is to make the story of CCR to be all about him too.

Got to wonder how many other CCR alum, besides me, see Mike for who and what he REALLY is and was.  A few made comments to me, at the last two reunions, that lead me to think they do.

For some time now, I felt compelled to break away from my relationship with the Griffins and now that I have, I feel somewhat relieved yet there is this lingering sense of loss I cannot shake. I knew them for decades. It became clear to me, only fairly recently, that they were not good for me, nor I for them. Kind of like what happened between me and Mary.

Toxic relationships have happened with me throughout my life.

Birds of a feather?  Lord, I hope NOT. 

Ma Barker appears to have left the scene of the crime.  Haven't seen her in weeks and weeks and a few weeks ago, there were heaps of things loaded into these big bags and sitting on the front lawn. Those items are gone now and I cannot recall the last time I saw her car.  If she is indeed departed, then that would be a blessing for me. Perhaps by next summer, the skanks across the street will be gone as well.  One can always hope.  I am.