The Macaroni That Came Out of My Brother's Nose and His Bunk Bed Which Pepermint Patty and I Broke

I collect people. And I hang onto them. I am, in fact, a people-hoarder. I own almost nothing but my friends are almost too numerous to count at this stage in my life. According to my various social networks, I am in regular contact with well over 1,000 people. That's either a sign that I have a serious problem or a sign that I will live really long. Opinions vary.

One of these friends is a girl I have known since I was 9 years old. She was and is a carrot top with a wicked sense of humor. We called her Peppermint Patty since the freckle situation and hair were beyond amazing. We keep reconnecting and remembering why we connected in the first place. (Well, I know why I do. She's smart, hilarious, generous, and fascinating. I have no idea what she gets out of it.) And we recently reconnected again after more than twenty years. She has a wonderful husband, two incredibly engaging imps, a lunatic dog, and a lovely home from which she does important work.

We got to spend a day together last week and yes, I snorted. Several times in fact. I was quite sure I was going to get my giggle on but I really wasn't expecting to find in her memory a wealth of anecdotes from my early years that I had lost in a sea of slights and follies. She actually remembers the best parts of my childhood while I apparently clung to a whole lot of sibling rivalry and latchkey woe-is-me moments.

We both remember the macaroni that shot of of my brother's nose though. That was epic. It was accompanied by a rather large quantity of milk. And it sent the three of us into the kind of hysteria that only children know. I would die tomorrow if I could find that level of pure joy today. Although I came close reliving that moment with PP last week hearing her tale of how we both climbed onto the second bunk of my brother's bed and began rocking it while he sat beneath us egging us on until the entire structure came crashing down upon him from which pile of debris he shouted "GET OFF ME!!!!" while PP and I inquired whether the other had heard something as we jumped up and down. How do I not remember this?

Watching her children, the eldest of whom is the age now that her mother and I were when we met, I see before them a whole strange road of hijinks and low points. They are both as pretty, smart, and funny as their mother and they have their father's handsome carriage, seriousness, and focus as well. I have been worried about the future of this country, and I am worried for them. Although the fact that they are our future is a great relief to me. I am perfectly willing to hand over the reins to these two little creatures as soon as they can handle the ride. I just wish they were getting a better deal.

Neither one got the freckles though.