  A few nights ago we stopped for the night at a friend’s house around Dall-ass (before anyone from Dallas gets offended, let me just say that my family loves place names we can snicker about. In fact, the best in the world is Crusted Butt, Colorado). We haven’t spoken with this particular friend for several years because of an awkwardness after a falling-out.
Last week I started thinking about him, and about how bad I felt for being way too judgmental about his life choices and recommended John give him a call. I had to use all my superhuman e-searching skills to find his phone number, that’s how long it had been. When John called this friend the guy was so excited, he said he’d googled us the day before thinking the same things!
I thought, damn, I’m sure sensitive to the global zeitgeist! Seeing (let’s call them names to make this easier) Lloyd and Kara ended up being easier than we’d imagined. The first hugs were tense, then easy talk commenced and didn’t let up until 2:30 am. The whole experience leaves my soul a little lighter. I don’t want to have people out there in the world with whom I’ve left things unresolved. I recommend this whole heartedly.
Now that I’ve crossed “Lloyd and Kara” off my list, I only have one or two others to go after. Checking out of someone’s life (someone you know intimately, until that moment you check out) and then checking back in several years later has been more revealing about me and my life than theirs. Turns out they’re both teachers now. They bought a little house in the burbs, drive an SUV. They’re like suddenly middle class adults. More accurately, they’re suddenly their parents. I have my urban home, my fuel efficient volkswagon, my artsy friends, even my protests and rallies; in short, I’ve tried to end up far from my rural, hick-town upbringing.
But am I just my parents reinvented? I like my parents, so it’s not that I would mind if I am, but I like to think of myself as more original than that. 
