I went to school (for a few years at least) in Madison, building
a raft of good friends through parties and chance encounters. As we aged, they
moved further from downtown, into larger apartments and then into houses.
Marriages, dogs and children followed, pushing my usual weeknight drinking and
weekend concert routine to their periphery. Picking the kid up from daycare
replaced happy hour drinks.
Should I have been looking for a girl and actually paying
rent for a consistent roof over my head? Maybe (although I’m not sure my job at
the time would’ve supported either), but I clung to my lifestyle even if it
meant going to bluegrass shows alone or holding down the bar by myself on a
Sunday afternoon, drinking bloodys. Have I done as much as I could to stay
connected with my college friends? No. I feel bad about that. I didn’t adjust
my lifestyle to better connect with those college friends and we drifted apart.
I only see those folks once or twice a year; I used to sleep on their couches
once or twice a month (or more).
My evenings changed on Valentine’s Day 2014. A girl I had
met invited me to a pre-party for the Horseshoes and Hand Grenades show. It was
Cupid’s day and I didn’t feel like going to the show alone. I showed up at a
house I had never been to before, filled with people I had never met - a
perfect Valentine’s.
The laughs and smiles that ricocheted through the house
warmed and welcomed me to the scene. At the High Noon Saloon, the boys from
Horseshoes enlivened the crowd and encouraged the interactions between my new
acquaintances and myself. Concerts and other large gatherings of like-minded
folks (especially when alcohol is involved) have a way of loosening
conversation.
The following night brought Yonder Mountain String Band to
town and another chance to further the burgeoning friendships I was forging. That
night at the Orpheum was one of my favorite nights of 2014. The band, with
Ronnie McCoury and Jason Carter sitting in, absolutely killed it. I floated
from friend group to friend group with a smile too big for my face. That night still
puts me in a happy place.
Those two nights, more than anything, set the stage for the year.
I didn’t have to go to bluegrass shows alone and didn’t have to worry about
where I was going to stay afterward. I had new friends.
As Valentine’s Day approached this year, I got sentimental
and looked back at how lucky I was to have met my new friends. To commemorate
the occasion, I invited the core group to a restaurant I had not been to – a
pig in a fur coat.
Sam, Jesse, Katie, Jillian and I met beforehand for a few
beers. We finished a growler and a 6er as folks relayed their day, speckled with
laughter and the odd remark. With the beer gone, we bundled up and headed out.
The night was clear and crisp - February at it’s coldest –
on the walk. Sparsely populated tables greeted us at a pig in a fur coat and we
were seated shortly after grabbing a drink at the bar. My eyes got big when I
saw the menu. I’ve led a sheltered life when it comes to food and this was my
chance to break out. Meatballs made with bone marrow? Yes. Ravioli with a duck
egg inside? Yes. Octopus? Yes. Foie Gras mousse? Yes.
We ate our way through what felt like half the menu, our
stomachs filling with an ever-varying collaboration of animal parts. The only
thing better than the food was the group of people surrounding me. It was a
good night.
Friendship, even at its most intense and sincere can be
ephemeral. Lives change and our routines fade from common arenas. That’s life. I’m
not sure where my life will be next year or even in a few months, but I do
know, when you’ve found something good, enjoy every minute of it.
