Wednesday Night Lights...and some surprise nostalgia
The Reverend and Mike...better men than most.
June, Zo and myself slipped on down to Norm Perry Park to catch our nephew, Reece's, minor football game. Zo's Uncle Brad coaches Reece as well so we had to go see how the father/son combo was doin' on the gridiron. Turns out not too bad.
We stumbled into a nice surprise when one of my best friends from high school, Mike Tatsu, was there as well. He was watching his son play (who is pretty damn slick I gotta say) and we got to unexpectedly catch up. Mike got to meet Zoey for the first time and I got to visit with Mike's father, or "Sir," as I used to call him, too.
The Tatsu's were like a second family for me somewhere in the middle of my high school years. In fact, I almost moved in with the family so that I could attend a school in another district. Mike's father, The Rev, is the kindest soul you'll ever know...and there's no subtle innuendo there. He's just one of the best people I've ever known...one of the men in my life who reinforced a different image of what a man should be. I love him like a second parent. His son, Mike, didn't fall all that far from the family tree. For as few as three years, maybe, we were as tight as friends got, and I could say, without hesitation, that I love him too. It's the kind of family that you can find after years and years have slipped past and there's a hug and a smile and the most hearty welcome you could want regardless of time past. I think the last time I saw Mike and his father was three years ago when I dropped by to visit them at Mike's house. Despite a three year gap in connection, tonight felt as though no time had passed whatsoever.
We missed most of the boys games because we were laughing and talking, even snapped a few pictures...June and I thought we were going out for a quick visit with Brad and Reece and we stumbled into the best night we've had in awhile. It slapped us back into reality after having spent so many nights either gone and indulging ourselves or hiding away on the lake. We rarely soak up our own community.
Funny thing is that in a similar fashion to so many of our relationships, some of the best ones don't live in our postal code. More often than not the people who we would spend most of our time with if we were neighbors -- John and Danielle, Kevin and Aimee, Scott and Stacey, Andrew and Michelle, Arvin and Sam, Mike and Afaf, Stu and Anne -- all live relatively out of the way in terms of ease of access. We remind ourselves that such is life but I'd like to formally acknowledge here that the phenomenon is bull@#$%.