This weekend, in a galaxy far, far away, there was a gathering at a place called Bedlam Farm. It consisted of a number of the members of the Open Group for Bedlam Farm, a Facebook group I belong and known alternately as a Ministry of Encouragement where a bunch of a creative types like myself gather at one of my favorite author’s farm in New York to meet each other and exchange ideas and merriment. It was the second year of the event and this time, I couldn’t go for a number of reasons, but namely because I had better things to do.

First thing on Saturday morning, I had breakfast with my brother, my Da, my niece and nephew and Brown a.k.a. Dr. Jimmy, who was my Godfather (a concept I really don’t understand. I mean, does that mean when I get to heaven and tell God I was actually a Buddhist, Dr. Jimmy has to do extra time in Pergatory to repent for my sins? Just askin’ over here.)


Me Dave Dad Brown and Kids

Dave see saw

After breakfast, I went for a walk with him and my niece and nephew to a school playground near my parents’ house. I pushed Jake and Izzy on this merry-go-round contraption (actually it looked more like a medieval torture apparatus than playground equipment) and took this photo of my brother on another see-saw-esque device that actually looked more like an elaborate sort of sex toy, but no matter. We played with his kids and joked about the teenagers engaged in some sort of thinly-veiled nefarious activity behind the school (Drug-free zone my ass). I love Jake and Izzy, although it was tough for me and Dave and my SIL to figure out where to tell the kids I’d been for 3 years. We decided that I had been doing missionary work in Africa. Which is kind of true. I mean, there was drying out involved.

The night before, I had traveled to a little village a fair piece south of Omaha. Hawaiian Village to be precise, where one of my best friend’s parents retired to. There I got together with my friends Dave and Aaron, both of whom I’ve known for more than 20 years. There’s just something so dignified about being able to say that. I took these pictures with them and their wives.

ME Luke and Aaron 2


That photo is alright, but I think this one gets more to the core of my relationship with these clowns …


Me Luke and Aaron BEst One


Me Heidi and Jen BEst

And it really reminded me of this thing I saw today (I know, pretty weird that something that happened on Saturday can remind me of something I read today, but there it is) about how with some people, you don’t see each other for 2 years and somehow, you pick up right where you left off the last time you saw them. I’m so incredibly lucky to count Aaron and Dave in the small group of my friends. And I got a picture with their beautiful wives as a gentle reminder of what lies waiting for me if I’m patient.

So while I wasn’t able to go to New York and frolic with the other people in the OGBF, share their work and kiss a donkey, I had my own little reunions to go to. I’ve been dragging ass all day today because of packed weekend with these guys. And I hope it all happens again soon.

One thought on “Pals

  1. I didn’t make it either Andy but I felt like I was there the whole time. Looks like you were in the right place this time around. Nice post.


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