Lughnasa Elk Rut Moon
In Vandalia, Illinois. The 50th reunion in the past. If being old enough to have a 50th reunion is one marker, what is being old enough to have already had it?
The big event today was the pig roast at Toni Fox’s 20 acre place just off the Gas City exit of I-69. Three of my good friends got up at 3:00 am (or, rather, never went to bed), picked up the pig already stuffed by Tom Friend and put him inside a barbecue unit with a spit. When I got there around 1 p.m., they were all pros with thick gloves, thermostat watching responsibilities and the cautious conversation of guys cooking.
When they unwrapped the aluminum foiled and chicken wire covered pig, I had a flood of sympathy for the pig. I ate no pork. This sensibility I kept quiet because it confused me.
Susan Mahony asked me what had disillusioned me about the ministry. Indiana breeds devout church goers and I’ve never felt good about chipping away at another person’s faith, so I dodged the question, allowing the conversation to move away from the topic.
These reunions, these 50th ones and their follow-ups, have a special poignancy because the probability is that some of the folks you spent time with will be dead before the next one. Who? When? Of what? Hard to say.
