Classic - Class

This Saturday did not proceed as originally scheduled, but I enjoyed it for what it was anyway. I was just happy that my friends wanted to hang out with me all day. It started with a drive to visit my sister and brother-in-law, some of the best friends in my life. Once arrived, I caught up with a third friend who I hadn't seen in a couple of weeks. We all went to breakfast at a newly opened Chick-fil-a, telling stories about our week past and my sister regaled us with tales from childhood.

I admire her ability to recreate a memory - the words she chooses are descriptive and convey emotions very effectively. As a writing tutor at the university from which I graduated, one of her exercises involves free-writing early experiences from her life. As she brought these tales to light, I prompted her with suggestions and details to learn her perspective on the shared memories.

When we returned to her home, she sat down to commit these tales to paper, while I trailed her husband around their property. It was my task to take notes on tasks that he intended to finish before pre-winter cold settled in to make such activities inconvenient. At the end of the tour, my brother-in-law took his 3-wheeler out for a joyride and offered to let me take the reins. I had never piloted one of the contraptions before and he casually explained that the shifter was under the left foot, the rear brakes on the right foot, and the throttle was a thumb press to the right. I am not a natural multi-tasker, so I started out slowly, kicking it into first gear and tapping the throttle.

Did I mention I was standing up because the seat cover was loose and the exhaust pipe was therefore exposed? Yeah. There was that concern too.

I stutter-stepped up his gravel driveway and, when I reached the concrete, managed to execute a full turn and head back. It was something that my brother-in-law enjoys doing - introducing his friends to new experiences and watching their reactions. This 3-wheeler was his new toy and "one of his greatest recreational pleasures in life at the moment."

I headed back to the house, jittery from the short ride and the two cups of coffee I had drank over breakfast. My sister offered me another cup from a freshly pressed batch, and I drank it while reading X-Men: Schism by Jason Aaron and multiple artists & Sacrifice by Sam Humphries and Dalton Rose. I enjoy Aaron's writing because the dialogue often connects with my sense of humor & there are moments in the script that lent the mutant characters touches of humanity and dimension.

Humphries' tale required a little more attention on my part to understand what was going on in the story, but I enjoyed it as well for what it was. His take on Uncanny X-Force for Marvel was what introduced me to his work, piquing my curiosity enough to follow him to this independently published graphic novel. I listened to Humphries talk about this book for his interview with Kieron Gillen's podcast "Decompressed."

My third friend rejoined my sister and I in the house after popping back to his place for a change of clothes. He and I listened to my sister's updated accounting of childhood memoirs, one of which featured humor at my younger self's expense. I didn't mind: It was a good tale and I am not that child any longer. It made me laugh and my friend did as well, relating a similar experience from his family's memories.

As my sister returned to her writing, my friend sat down to a game of cribbage, which I lost. Then a game of golf - similar to polish poker, except with nine cards instead of six - which I lost as well. I smiled and congratulated him on his uncanny luck, then rushed off to meet another friend at his campus cafeteria for dinner. As he is an RA, he is responsible for the enforcement of no alcoholic beverages in the dormitories. I brought along a 6-pack of IBC Cream Soda bottles as a friendly gift to play with the spirit of the prohibition while technically not breaking it.

He was happy to see me, thanking me for my presents of the drinks and a mix-cd featuring mid-2000's pop songs from my music library, but even more so with my presence.  He reciprocated on the second gift with a mix of his own. (As I listened to the first 6 tracks on my way home, it has a considerably more 60's-70's ballad pop aesthetic.)

As we talked over dinner, we quoted Mean Girls, G.K. Chesterton, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (mainly me as I am very fond of that movie), Princess Bride. I was taken aback when my friend mentioned he had only seen the last listed but once, and that was perhaps 9 years ago. Other friends greeted my friend as we ate, because he is a friendly sort of fellow and knows many people on campus.

As we walked back to his dormitory hall, we passed by a television... which happened to be playing the boulder scene from Princess Bride. I grinned at him and insisted that this was too coincidental an opportunity. Alas, I was that horrible person who got way too much enjoyment trying to quote every other line of dialogue, more often than not messing it up. (It had been a little while since I had last seen it as well.).  An advertisement announced that Matilda was to be shown next week. My friend and I had discussed Roald Dahl's books over dinner, and I reminded him of the horrible plot elements from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I had been reading it to my two youngest sisters before bed and had learned from writer Patrick Rothfuss's take of its being a horrifying children's tale if read and taken seriously. (Rothfuss's review features some profanity, but is quite eye-opening and accurate.)

Although I have never seen the movie Matilda, I am very fond of Mara Wilson now that I follow her on Twitter. She is a wry and well-adjusted former child star who does not suffer fools lightly. And she plays the Faceless Old Woman who Secretly Lives in Your House in the podcast Welcome To Night Vale.

During a commercial break, I learned that my friend had performed in a talent show on campus and I complimented him on his snazzy style of piano-playing. My friend was pleased with my sentiment and told me that I didn't have to be so nice. I told him that "If I am not being 'too much,' I am not being enough." That made him laugh and he insisted on writing it down. I feel that way with most of my friends. I think that they are fantastic and am happy that I get to spend time with them.

After the Princess Bride ended with the words, "As you wish," the channel started The Sandlot. The only time I had seen that movie was with this friend, and it was after a poker night held at his house. I was satisfied with that being a one-time memory and it was getting late in the evening, so I bid my farewells and started homeward.

Good night, readers, good night...