punkwalrus (punkwalrus) wrote,
punkwalrus
punkwalrus

Man, I am depressed... yet this post has happy things.

This sucks. I don't have a reason to be depressed. Chemical imbalance. The crazy dark blood that nearly drove all of the Larson clan mad. Anyway, I have no rants or anything reasonable to explain why I am playing Bonnie Tyler at ear-splitting volumes. In fact, something remarkable happened to me. Again, the odds of meeting a childhood friend from McLean is usually so remote, one has to engage an Improbability Drive or get invited to Those Sorts of Parties. But there he was, standing next to me on the Metro.

"Are you... Greg Larson?"

Ngyyesss...?

"I am Pat."

Pat Carlton. Holy God. My brain snapped back like a rubber band to a curly-hair scamp who lived on a major intersection near my childhood home. His mother, a kind soul, was the one who rescued me from the snow the day my father sent me to school during a blizzard. I have a lot of fond memories of Pat. He had an older sister, Mickey, who I think babysat me once or twice. He had a Siamese cat, Ming, whom I liked, and I played with him and Andy Oman, his best friend.

Pat was... on the edge a little. Him and Andy corrupted the innocent little me, which was naive and stupid for a boy my age, having been pretty isolated and fairly naive. This is not a complaint, but a fact. Pat, for instance, was the one who got me involved in fire. If I was to credit anyone for making me a pyromaniac, it was him. I never burned anyone or destroyed anything (that anyone caught me at), but he's the reason that today, I am so good with fires. Of course, he got caught when I got caught playing with matches, but that's because I was a snitch under pressure. Sorry, Pat :(.

Pat was a good friend as a kid, though. I really only have fond memories of him, and I am not sure why we never stayed friends in high school. When I saw him, we wasn't so curly-haired anymore (so what Pat, I'm fat), but he's married with three kids, living in the home he grew up in. He said he's still friends with Andy, and I gave Pat my card, and I hope Andy gets in touch with me. He also told me Carrie (who had a VERY unfortunate nickname because he wrinkled so much in the pool) was a male nurse, and Dave Knasel, the kid whose dad was my scoutmaster, is a lawyer. Wow. No surprises there.

He told me about McLean and we spoke of property values. I hope I didn't talk poor Pat's ear off, I was so glad to see him. Man... the stories I could tell. Maybe I shouldn't now, without their permission. Anyway, I have a lot of fond memories of those guys.

And fond memories of my childhood? Really hard to come by. I really, really needed that today.
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