TO ABSENT FRIENDS

TO ABSENT FRIENDS

By Andrew Paul Grell

“Ya know, it isn’t easy getting sticks seven feet long.”

“We know, Stretch. That’s why you’re the chairman of the firewood and floriate utensil committee,” Alice reminded her old grade school friend. “You’re tall enough to just snap ‘em off if ya can’t find ‘em on the ground. Good job. We can all have toasted marshmallows and weenies and be confident that we’re maintaining social distancing.”

“She said ‘weenie’ heh heh heh”

“Shut up, Stu. You haven’t changed one bit since 6^th grade. How did you get to be a Senior VP of anything?”

“That’s easy, Carol. It’s because, one, I’m crude, which is a mark of male privilege, and two, because I’m crude in a puppy dog sort of way. Oh, and I read ‘What Color is Your Parachute,’ six editions of it. But the real funny thing is why we have to social distance in the Adirondack Mountains. We all tested negative.”

“But Stu, we’re here because we don’t want to risk being around any hot-spots.”

“Really? I thought we were here because we come up here every year.” Bob and June, the latrine committee, tramped back into the camp proper, shouldering their shovels and rakes and other implements of destruction, just in time to hear the debate.

June, according to 23 & Me a descendant of Vikings, usually had something stoic to say. She did not disappoint.

“People die. Cattle die. Only the tales of bravery and heroism are immortal.” She got the same look from the present assembled company as she used to get in P.S. 81. “This year we seem to have more than our usual share of immortality to ship off to Valhalla.”

Stretch declined to answer when asked how he was ale to secure actual bottles of tango, except to say that it was “classified information.” He opened the cap on the first bottle and passed it to Carol.

“I think it was better when we had to liberate it and then sneak around to drink it. So, who did we lose this year, Stu?”

Naturally, as a high-powered executive, had his administrative assistant keep tabs on the morbidity and mortality of the 1969 6-1 class.

“Question Mark was a real shocker. He was from such a clean-living family. His dad was a minister, if you remember. Every Valentines Day Mark would bring cards for everyone, boys and girls, all signed Question Mark. Died of the Plague. He came back to New York to volunteer, and he caught it.” Carol took a swig of Tango.

“To Question Mark! May he smile down on us and ensure we all send and all receive the right Valentines.”

“To Absent friends,” the assembled replied. Carol passed the first bottle to Bob.

“Cordelia Fletcher. Afghanistan. She was trying to document whatever was left of Buddhist temples and statues before the Taliban got to them. According to my source in the State Department, she trusted the wrong guide/translator. Note that her death didn’t appear on any news report.”

Bob paused before taking a swig. “Wasn’t she the one with the hippy parents and the wild garden? I always wondered what else was growing there… Well, to Cordelia!” He took his swig and passed it to Alice.

“To absent friends!”

“We lost Jessica this year as well, although she lost herself years before.”

Stretch looked a little quizzical. “Wasn’t she the one who put up 80 book reports on the wall?”

“That’s right. Mrs. Krindle never caught on that she was cribbing from the jacket notes. There’s a lesson in there somewhere. Doing something as opposed to looking like you’re doing something. She played the violin as well,” June reminded everyone. “Carol, Bob, you were in on this with me.” June pirouetted and faced everyone else. “She became Concert Mistress of the Sioux City Ballet, I think she played almost 20 seasons until she broke her bow arm teaching her daughter to skateboard. Carol and Bob and I tried everything to get her out of her funk. It almost worked. Remember that line from Mad Magazine? We saw her spirits zoom, from deep depression up to gloom. She had another burst when she became a grandma, but she was just never the same. To Jessica!”

“To absent friends!”

The bottled moved another tick around the memory clock and somehow wound up with Alice again.

“Finally, we say our goodbyes to Adam Slovak; our student Earth Day organizer. First in our class to have a whistle and a clipboard. DUI. Adam was always in a hurry.

 “To Adam!”  Everyone there noted the length of her swig.

“To absent friends!” The bottle made its way around the rest of the circle. They began the wait for a deer. Fortunately, since the last two years were deer-free, Ted salted the campsite perimeter with chaffhaye and ivy. Stu gave a report of the lame and the halt who couldn’t make it, and then what was known of anyone else who was not known to be sick or dead. After that, it only took a half hour of dish, snitty conversation, and another two bottles of Tango before a fawn stuck her nose out of the trees and grabbed herself a heapin’ helpin’ of the succulent mix.

“We may now begin, with the apparent blessing of Mother Nature. What shall we remember this year?” Apparently tall tales fell into the same category as long sticks, so Stretch moderated the decision-making process. “Last year, we did the Book Fare shoplifting incident. The year before that was the Crossing Guard Scandal. Any fresh suggestions?”

June stood up, and also stood up for honor itself. “I propose we recall the Milk and Cookies Kickback Scheme.”

“June, that was third grade. I see that all of us here were in that class, but let’s see if we can decide on something a touch more adolescent. Anyone?”

“Stretch, I disagree. All third-graders shoplift. Almost all. But it takes grownups to perpetrate a fraud, and balls to defraud children. Bob. You know what the deal was. Tell them.”

“Sorry, June. The Solano Brothers milk cartons were easier to open than the Richardson cartons. Everyone thought it was worth an extra two cents so milk wouldn’t spill while third-graders were trying to open the cartons. That was it.”

“Really? I saw Frank Solano, Tony’s kid, hand Miss Khast a five-dollar bill. Twice. I know because I had a crush on Frank and I watched everything he did when he was in the classroom. But alright. You remember it your way, I’ll remember it mine.”

The tiff complete, five voices shouted out “Show and Tell! Show and Tell!”

Stretch, who had actually read Robert’s Rules of Order rather than just carrying it around in High School, did something quasi-parliamentary.

“The motion to recall the episode of the ultimate show and tell is passed by voice acclamation. Alice, I believe this was your project, wasn’t it? Why don’t you start it off?”

“I’d be glad to, Stretch, and I may have to since it was Jessica’s idea. I spread it around for her cause she didn’t want to mess up her goody-two-shoes reputation.”

Another chorus of “To absent friends” erupted along with another bottle of Tango passed widdershins round the circle.

“Alrighty, then. For those of with dim recollections, Mrs. Krindle was retiring. Jessica thought we should have a competition to see who could come up with the most outrageous show and tell entry. Being near the end of both the school year and our teacher’s career, she couldn’t be fired or disciplined. And we couldn’t be fired or disciplined because we were just kids doing show and tell. The winner would get to pick someone to be a personal slave for one hour after school.”

“I don’t remember the slave part,” Carol said.

“Maybe it’s because you didn’t win or weren’t picked to be the winner’s slave,” Alice said with a soupcon of mystery and an assortment of other emotions.”

“Tell the story, tell it,” Bob slurred.

“Hokie Dokie. We briefed Mrs. Krindle that some of the show and tell presentations needed to be outside on the field; she was okay with that. We started off easy. Adam came in with a deck of marked cards and showed everyone how to cheat by reading the card backs.”

June burst in. “Oh. Holy recovered memory syndrome! That’s how he won that strip poker game. Not to speak ill of the dead…”

“To absent friends! And to the next bottle!” was the unanimous call.

“I’ll tell the next one about Cordelia,” Ted insisted.

“Wait,” June commanded. “Was she the one who demonstrated a dildo?”

“Close. Her brother Tommy was in Junior High. Their sex-ed curriculum included showing birth control methods. I thought we would all remember that with perfect clarity. It was all stuff Coach Lightman went over in Health Class, kinda-sorta. Tom was on the A.V. Squad, with keys to many rooms in the school, and he liberated some materials. No prosthesis was involved.”

Bob felt the need to interrupt. “But there was a cucumber, I’m pretty sure of that.”

The “To Absent Friends” chorus turned into a “Shut up, Bob” chorus.

“I’ll do Carol’s,” Stretch said. “The pornographic art, remember?”

“It wasn’t pornographic. It was an anatomically correct origami model. I do remember that everyone got a kick out of it, and also paid attention to how to fold it properly. Especially, you know, what happens when you pull the left leg of the model,” Carol insisted, followed by an unheard whisper.

Eventually it was time for the outdoor portion of the program. Bob picked it up, along with another bottle of Tango. Good thing there were no roads near the campsite.

“Muller’s dad had a horse stabled in Van Cortland Park, down the hill from the elementary school. The stable manager recognized Muller and let him take out Gringolet. Instead of sticking to the bridle paths, he calmly rode the horse up Mosholu Parkway, hand-signaling stops and turns, swung around the new Russian Diplomatic housing and showed up on the school’s ball field. He led a couple of kids on rides around; Mrs. Krindle narrowly escaped being peed on by Gringolet but still managed to pierce a steaming divot with her heel.

“It was Mick who won, wasn’t it,” Stu asked. The fake Musket. He convinced Mrs. Krindle that it was his great-great-etc, Grandfather’s from the Revolutionary War. And that it was crafted so well it could still fire, that his dad would load it and fire it every 4^th of July, that they only used quarter-charges and cork balls. There were no regulations for antique muzzle loaders, there still aren’t. She gave him permission to fire one round with the rest of the class safely behind him. And he managed to hit the Good Humor truck that was pulling in for the lunch break crowd. To Mick!”

“To Mick!”

“To absent friends!”

The Tango went around again, along with roasted weenies and marshmallows cooked on Stretch’s sticks. Just when it was time to unroll the sleeping bags, the group heard the sound of hoofbeats. Alice got everyone out of the way except for Carol. It was a much older Muller on a much younger and smaller horse who dismounted, removing a case of Tango from a saddle bag, and then kneeling in front of Carol.

“Madam,” he said. Would you allow me to be your obedient servant in all things?”