Forty Years Gone

It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.                                                                                                                 - Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Today I had lunch with my second oldest friend, who I met four decades ago in some industrial shit hole, where we both worked for crap wages in even worse conditions. Our love of rock music brought us together in a world that was dull, grey, where nothing seemed to work.

Forty years later we are still discussing bands, records, books and art, enjoying ourselves in a pub on the edge of town, eating fish n' chips, drinking ice cold Coke, and laughing about the past, while keeping our balding heads in the present.

He's a wonderful guy, happily married to an equally wonderful woman (as am I), and all we crave these days is enough to get by on, as we stroll into middle age, where everything moves at a slower pace than that of our youth.

Wille be around in another forty years?. Well, unless a way is found to deep freeze pensioners, I seriously doubt it. I've felt good today, the only blues present were in our heads, as we remembered some of the amazing gigs rich in content of dark, heady blues guitar. I love this man dearly, and my life has been the richer for his presence.