Tonight, Jon and I had our old college pal, Andrew Anderson over for dinner. He is going to be a guest poet in my classroom tomorrow and we wanted to discuss what he would be reading and practice our rusty (I guess I should say MY) rusty Skype skills.
Andy walked in during a flood. Yup, our washing machine flooded because Jon overloaded it,and it was gushing water. Under some circumstances I would have been freaking out that our house was a cluttered-toy-tornado zone and there were wet towels all over the front walk, the floors, and puddles everywhere! But, I wasn’t freaking out — when Andy walked in, I felt like he had just been there the day before and nothing was going to shock him. Except, he has never been to our house, and we probably haven’t seen him but maybe three times since college, which was 11 years ago.
When he walked in the door, we greeted each other and Joey immediately jumped into his lap. “Andy Anderson!” “Andy Anderson!” “Will you read me a story and play car ramps with me??” Those who have met Joey will know that for him to behave this way towards someone he has only seen once before for perhaps five minutes, was strange. Except, it wasn’t. It was like Joey and Enzo had always known Andy, because Andy is where Jon and I are from. He was with us in our formative college years, was Jon’s roommate, worked at Camp Wanake with me, and part of our very close-knit faith community. Hanging out with Andy was refreshing, like going home. Thanks for coming over, friend. Let’s not let it be eleven more years before we have dinner together again!