They've known one another since childhood. Curmudgeonly old friends. They are a host of characters; a retired language instructor, a skydiving vagabond, and the president of our local historical society. There are some great stories to be told.
Here are men in their mid to late sixties talking, acting, and drinking like it's around high school. I can scarcely keep up. The midnight hour approaches and I cannot keep my eyes open. I am not the nocturne I once was. At forty-one, it looks like I'm the old man. The irony is not lost on anyone. There are laughs aplenty.
Too funny...
ReplyDeleteYeh, yeh, a real knee-slapper. Quite the rib-tickler.
DeleteIt's true, I'm a lame ass like that.
well, maybe by the time you're in your sixties, you'll get your second wind...cheers to getting older.
ReplyDeleteMaybe by the time I get to my sixties I'll be half as interesting as those three. At least, that's my hope.
DeleteSounds suspiciously like my own circle of vagabonds....though we're just shy of that 60 mark you mention....
ReplyDeleteI feel that I have been both lucky and privileged to know some colorful and extraordinary individuals. Another example is a retired magistrate of my acquaintance who knew my maternal grandparents when they were county commissioners. On his seventieth birthday I toasted a whiskey with him at a local saloon and he drunkenly lapsed into singing Danny Boy. Well.
DeletePerhaps it is the older, not the younger, folks who really know how to party...