CBIP is on Fire! Three posts in two days -- gee.
So this past weekend, Carol paid one of her semi-annual visits to Paris ... this time on her way to Marseilles. I last saw her 24 years ago when her Dad married Lora and me. And even then, we weren't exactly close. At Glenerie Chapel, she was the college girl heading off to school and I was the snot-nosed, strung-out-on-Ritalin, youth group punk. Plus I was hanging out with Jay a lot at the time, so ....
Anyway, not exactly the same social circles. But the upside of aging is that the meaning of our age differential (which is actually pretty small) shrunk over time. So given our mutual affection for Paris and a shared, long-ago evangelical experience it was cool to hang out at Musée d'Orsay (the Lévy-Dhurmer pastels were other-worldly) and Le Galway reminiscing about Kingston, Saugerties, Glenerie Chapel, Ray Newton, Alan Rowe, and whatever the hell we called that Tennis Club church thingy that had the strongest, loudest flourescent lights known to man (Jill described our wedding there as resembling a Hoedown -- not that there's anything wrong with that). Come to think of it, that was the very location where my Dad first heard Lolly effortlessly drop an expletive into conversation. Good times.
So keep an eye on Carol's blog and maybe even convince her to turn on the comment feature so you can ask her how the writing is going (oops!) And thanks Carol for hanging out - it was really fun.
24 comments:
"I was the snot-nosed, strung-out-on-Ritalin, youth group punk."
Now, now, don't sell yourself short. You weren't...
...oh, who am I kidding -- I can't find a single word in that sentence I can discount.
Uh, Carol Miller? Ping me privately and catch me up -- I have a feeling I missed a thing or two in the last four years.
BTW, I was at your wedding, and it WAS a hoedown.
Psst -- I mean 24 years.
Consider yourself pinged.
Craig - glad you got to spend some time with Carol. My wife and I spent a week of our honeymoon in Paris, chasing the drinking haunts of Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Joyce.
As for Glenerie Chapel, those were some good times. But let's not forget those January retreats at Frost Valley.
Hey Dan! If you were chasing those literary dudes then you were probably in my neighborhood: Montparnasse. Any more trips planned?
Ah yes, Frost Valley. I probably never would have remembered that if you hadn't mentioned it. It's still a little hazy (I'll blame the Ritalin again). Was there a cheesy tow-rope ski slope there?
No Paris trips planned at the moment, Craig. As for the cheesy hill, your memory is correct. It was meant for sledding so when I descended the hill on a pair of cross country skies, some guy on a bullhorn yelled at me. Good times.
"But let's not forget those January retreats at Frost Valley."
Which, of course, we appropriately renamed Joe Frost Valley.
Sorry for the painful megaphone memory Dan.
Anybody know what ever became of Joe Frost?
Well, you know, springtime came, and well...
...no wait, that was Frosty the Snowman.
No idea.
Frankly, I think I deserved bigger props for the Joe Frost Valley reference. Bring it -- not feelin' the love, yo.
Big corporate executives like yourself are supposed to be satisfied with the fat paycheck.
No props for you!
Hey! Don't call me an executive -- I work for a living!
Unlike you, with your multi-year, corporate-funded, extended European vacation.
The last time I saw Joe Frost was in Phoenix. He had got religion again after a hiatus. During his hiatus, he had been shot in the parking lot of a bar. Good times.
He got better.
Wow. How long ago was that?
Yeah, getting shot in the parking lot would do it for me - I hear it's quite painful, and can be fatal.
It must have been mid-90s -- I think I was there for a conference (doing music).
Memories...what fun ! Craig, it's great, how we moved from your Paris "reunion" with Carol to Joe Frost in Phoenix. As for (Joe) Frost Valley, I was young then......I love hearing all of your memories, and comparing them with mine.
Are they consistent?
Pretty much, although as one of the "responsible adults" on those retreats (in my mid to late thirties), I probably wasn't privvy to everything. There is something to be said for being blissfully unaware of this & that. I remember the breakfast aromas in the dining hall, which later burned down & was rebuilt. I loved those weekends. I have lots of great photos !!
dad...it's been a few days. you're not on fire anymore.
True, true. You might even say I've gone cold.
If you count the comment strings (and I do), the coal bed is still glowing.
What Jill said this about your wedding? ME? I never did! All lies! Glad you got to spend time with Carol. I had forgotten that she makes regular pilgrimages to France.
Oh yes you did! Them's your words sis.
It was great to hang out with Carol. She's still in France but down on the Med coast. She'll read this comment so go ahead and say hi.
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