A week ago, while in the doctor’s office with a case of Influenza A, I was told that the medication being prescribed to me was in short supply and reserved for older patients. I responded to my care provider that I was OK with not having the medication, and that it should be given to elderly patients.
Those may have been a poor choice of words on my part. My provider shared with me that my age put me in the demographic she was speaking of and that I should take the medicine.
And so, a day after my 64th birthday, there I was, getting medication I assumed would be saved for someone much older. It would have been easy for me to feel sorry for myself, but then I remembered Texas.
Just the weekend before, Aggie and I were in Austin, for a few days, enjoying a concert, a trip through the Hill County, and more importantly, the company of good friends.
Aggie is my constant. She’s been my partner for over 40 years.
There’s Randy, who has been my partner in crime when it comes to sporting events, concerts and whatever else the two of us can find.
Between the two of them, they figured a trip to Texas would be just the ticket for an early birthday celebration. If people want to plan trips to fun, interesting places for my birthday, who am I to argue?
That brings me to our Texas friends, Julie and her husband, Paul. They live in Austin and helped make plans for a memorable weekend. Julie is a high school classmate of Randy and mine who I haven’t seen in 20 years. I thought it was longer, but Julie knew the last time we were together was our class reunion. I seem to recall her knowing the exact date.
As for Paul, I hadn’t seen him since Julie and Paul were married 39 years ago.
The funny thing about good friends is you can pick up right where you left off. Julie, Aggie and I hadn’t seen each other for two decades, yet there were no awkward silences. We caught up on each other’s lives, shared photos, good food and a lot of laughs.
A stop at Luckenbach gave all of us the chance to enjoy cold beers, sitting outside on picnic tables, listening to a roundtable of guitar players while watching the occasional chicken or two roam the grounds.
If you are someone who can’t have fun with cold beer, 80-degree temperatures and chickens underfoot, perhaps we are not your people.
Later that night in Gruene Hall in New Braunfels, I’ll confess to having a tear in my eye when we all walked in. It wasn’t so much where I was, but instead, who I was with, while standing in Texas’ oldest dance hall.
The weekend ended too quickly, with promises made to not wait another couple of decades to see everyone again.
So thinking of the weekend made it hard for me to lament being old enough for flu medication sitting in the doctor’s office. Instead, I thought back to another trip around the sun and some good friends who all found the time to get together for a weekend.
