My Christmas Card List Is Shrinking

Upon each passing of Thanksgiving Day, I dig out the Christmas Card List, dust it off and look to see how many cards and stamps to buy. And though I have not noticed this in the past, this year I was struck by two names that will be crossed off. Not that we had a disagreement, nor is it they failed to reciprocate with a card last year. It is because they are no longer living. This was the year they left us. So they will not be at their address if the mailman tries to deliver.

Now that I think about it, I send fewer and fewer cards every year. This year, to honor them, I will look back and embrace my memories of all of those who have left my list and share my love for them, with those who are still living.

They Were Almost Famous

I had a pretty cool boyfriend who was a friend and roadie to a group of really talented musicians. I remember the first time I heard them play. It was pure love at first sound. There was no doubt I was in it with them for the long haul. Every practice, every wedding, every bar, every gig. Most of those gigs have faded from memory, while one I will remember until the day I die. Maybe even longer.

Nineteen Seventy-four. Springsteen at Swarthmore. They opened for Bruce plenty of times, but this was a fresh spring day at an open air amphitheater. The flowering trees that were sheltering us from the sun, were dropping their white petals. They came spinning down upon us as if it were snowing. All the girlfriends were there, sitting in a circle, passing round the Cuervo. And we had our boys, Bruce and the E Street Band to dance around to. It was as perfect as a day can get.

Now that I think about it, I was hooked on the music and lyrics that flowed from these guys as if it were a drug. They may not be famous to the world, but they will always mean the world to me.