After leaving New York City over eight years ago, it was nice to meet up with old friends on a bright morning in the city that boasts the oldest Goodyear dealer in the United States, in a county that contains more Hispanics than Amish – Lancaster. Eating at a Creperie wasn’t on my recent list of things to do, but it seemed to please these friends of ours, those of both the East coast mentality (New York City) and those of the west (Seattle). My wife, who’s culinary ideals align somewhere between Bombay, deep Ethiopia and the elite culture of France, was also too excited to wait long for her salmon and caper-filled crepe. I chose one containing fresh fruit.

What had transpired in the last 8 years (schooling, home purchases, multiple moves, time spent overseas, and 6 small children between the three of us couples) only gave us more to talk about – as though the few years we spent together so long ago had been merely a spot on the map we could now look back on together through the tunnels we had carved from there. I hadn’t laughed so much at once for a good while. Coffee was drunk freely, especially by Darren.

Harlan imitated YouTube, “By the people, for the people . . . Eagle!”, tried to explain MacGyver to Olivia, and referenced the Civil War about eight times. Olivia described her clinic, poked fun of her husband’s obsession with running, and asked Harlan pointedly, “so . . . do you have an ideal?” Marilyn laughed, couldn’t quite finish her crepe, and also referenced YouTube. Jen described the cultural landscape of Seattle, spoke of her wealthy Asian clients, and refused to help Marilyn make the wind noises of a wordless duet. Darren recommended a book on the history of debt, tried to explain the complicated language of his upcoming dissertation, and answered all of Harlan’s questions about the non-existent Left without getting upset. I tried to explain how to run down an antelope by using only one’s legs, argued for the tolerance of movement in children, and said of church, “well, you have to go somewhere.”

We’ll have to do it again sometime.