Reflecting on time spent with the real friends in one's life

This Labor Day weekend offered up a little bit of everything.

There was some family and fun time. I tinkered and got caught up on all kinds of nagging little projects. Worked a little, too, getting up close and personal — as much as the side judge at Eastern Washington University’s football game Saturday would allow — to shoot photos.

The weekend concluded Monday, however, on a bit of a somber note with a memorial service for the mother of a friend. She had recently passed away at age 81, finally free of the ravages of Alzheimer’s.

Following a private family graveside service earlier that day, an overflow crowd attended the memorial at a local catering venue to chat, chow down and cry a bit, too, remembering the 62 years Rae and her husband Bob had spent together.

Bob and Rae’s marital longevity, however, was just one of the sagas of time traveling celebrated that afternoon.

I recognized few of the mostly older faces in the crowd. But there were a handful who were familiar. Bob (Bob and Rae’s son), Chris, Dave, Kelly, Krista, Linda, Mark, Mike and Pat. There were a number of spouses as well, each with long histories, but no offense ladies, you are relative newcomers.

Most of us first met 45 years ago in high school.

Others go back further. They grew up in the same neighborhood, across the street or down the block. Their moms were the “Leave it to Beaver” era stay-at-home types who collectively watched over the neighborhood.

Our longevity as a circle of friends is not only unique in how it has spanned the decades, but also that it has stayed intact despite some chasing their careers to many faraway parts of this country for long periods of time.

Washington, D.C., Phoenix, Baltimore, Seattle, Denver and Portland have been stops along the way, but now all have “come full circle,” as Pat likes to say, and are all home again.

This has been a crew that lived on the edge in our younger years like so many do. We’ve had many adventures, and misadventures. The stories we tell are all true because if not, Dave would likely be there to dive into his uncanny recall to factually recreate the moment.

Thank goodness the stabilizing factor of spectacular spouses settled us down.

We’ve either been in or attended many of each other’s weddings. We have celebrated the births of our children and mourned the passing of our parents — and even a few or our friends. Dave and Russ, we have never forgotten you, and tales of our times together are often retold.

Those I saw Monday were the faces of friends who never fail to show their support at times like this.

No calls are ever necessary; they are old school, read the paper and saw the obituary. Many are also “new school,” staying in touch on Facebook.

We actually do call one another sometimes, as we have to with Chris who is the only one amongst us who has steadfastly refused to buy a cell phone. But he’s also the guy 40 years ago who bought a chunk of land and eventually hand-built two cabins. He lived for years “off the grid,” well before that phrase for new rugged individualism became trendy.

With this group it’s not just the sad times that bring us together. We meet regularly, be it just a few brews to catch up or dinner for a dozen.

Monday’s time together later made me think if Hollywood ever wanted to do a reality-based remake of “The Big Chill,” well here is your cast.

We weren’t just a bunch of 30-somethings reuniting for our friend’s funeral. We were all 60-somethings who’d known each other virtually forever. There would be no need for a scriptwriter.

My wife tells me you can count your real true friends in life — the ones who will be there for you whenever you need them — with the fingers on one hand.

Thankfully, our group needs another hand, and most likely a foot or two as well.

Paul Delaney can be reached at [email protected].