I’m at the home of my friends Cam Clark and Ann Higgins in Richmond Hill, just north of Toronto.  Cam is my oldest friend – we’re both 76.  But also in the sense of when we first met – we were 15.

Tonight we laughed and reminisced … and appreciated the span of our lives together.

Cam and I loved playing tennis at our neighbourhood courts.  Over the years, guess how many times I beat him.

Never

We both played cello in high school.  Tonight we talked about Anthea East, the principal cellist in the orchestra.  I sat beside her as we played.  She was so good, and so pretty, and I was so tonguetied.  A few years after graduation she was riding a bike in Europe, hit her head, and died.  Such sadness relived 55 years later.

Cam and I both enrolled in the Commerce and Finance program at the University of Toronto.  I was going to be an accountant.  Perhaps Cam had visions of being a captain of industry.  We both became teachers – Cam in high school physics, me with blind kids.  In the living room we tried to remember the boring details of Actuarial Science, and soon moved on to cheerier topics.

Later in life, we went on a cross-Canada road trip in a tiny car called Pepsi.  We saw marvelous things.  We met marvelous people.  And we knew so little about life.

Once we went on a two-week canoe trip in the wilds of Ontario’s Algonquin Park.  I couldn’t swim.  Bugs ate us.  Our last meal was rice and instant mashed potatoes.

Cam has lung problems.  He’s ultra-sensitive to chemicals.  He warned me not to wear cologne of aftershave on my visit.  Cam can’t go to restaurants anymore, or any place where there’s lots of dust.  I’m essentially healthy.  Why him?  And why not me?

Our love for each other flows over the decades.  We hadn’t seen each other for four years and here we were tonight, not missing a beat.  Comfy in each other’s presence.

***

Hmm.  I have so little energy to write

And I want to write

My new Canadian stories need to be told

On to tomorrow