32 in 24 (or Bonnie Knoxville)

I'm exhausted! Worn slap down. Walking slow, thinking mo. Beat to the socks and draggin-ass.
But while my butt is waxing the floor, I am grinning from ear to ear. My jaws ache from laughter, I'm hoarse from conversation and singing and I can feel a nap coming on, although other plans will hold said nap at bay.
Laura and I just returned from the first annual Hollis Junior High School class of 1970, seventh-grade science, classroom 7A, front/center desk reunion. It was attended by two alumni and a spouse and was held just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee at the plush (well, acceptable) LaQuinta Suites at exit 398 off of I-40. You see, this was the weekend when Bonnie, my seventh grade sweetheart, and I would actually lay eyes on one-another after 32 years. After our short pants romance had ended, Bonnie and I remained friends throughout high school and up to my marriage. Then we lost touch. How would I feel seeing her after all this water over our respective dams? How would we look to one another after all the years and miles? Would this meeting be awkward and strange, and end after a short but polite lunch with half-hearted guarantees of “we'll have to plan a trip up your way”? Would she see this pudgy, bald, clean-shaven 52 year old man and take off running back to Nashville faster than you can sing “Nashville Cats-clean as country water-Nashville Cats...”?

Bonnie and I have put probably 50 hours on our phones over the past four weeks. We've talked into the wee hours about God and the devil, life and death, love and loss, triumph, tragedy, happiness and otherwise – a veritable Billy Shakespeare drama in the making. We've seen recent pictures of one another and were both pleased that we were “still home”, so to speak. These conversations built a base of trust which allowed us to take the next step of meeting in person again. And I was wanting Laura and Bonnie to meet since they shared so many common traits (both are down to earth-plain spoken women who see only black or white, are easy to love but hard to handle!)
We agreed to meet at a Cracker Barrel just across from the hotel at noon on Saturday, with the additional agreement that if either party decided to chicken out of the rendezvous, we'd each have the decency to call the other and back out gracefully.

The drive to Knoxville, through the North Carolina and Tennessee mountains, was absolutely perfect on this second day of spring 2009. The temp was in the low 50s as we made the last mountain pass and breezed past Sevierville a little ahead of schedule, leaving the clouds over the mountains behind us
Laura and I arrived first, pulling into the lot at just before noon. I called Bonnie to get her e.t.a. and chatted with her as she made the last few miles to our exit. Finally, this excited and smiling old boy saw her as she pulled in and parked, her looking all fine in her black Lexus! We were on the phone with one another when she stepped out of the car and only hung up the phone when we hugged hello. God she looked great! Her blue-green eyes shimmered in the noon-day sun as I bear hugged her and she responded in kind. At least her grip hadn't changed much over the years . Bonnie and Laura hugged and said hello and we headed into the restaurant for brunch.
I knew that our first few minutes together would have us staring at one another, studying each other with eyes steeled by tragedy and loss. And we did. After satisfying ourselves that part one of the reunion had gone over well, we ordered soup and salad and commenced reunion-ing.
After brunch, I rented a two-room suite and we settled in and continued our talks.
How do you cram 32 years of memories into 24 hours? You don't. You can't. All you can do is identify the important topics (Family, family and family), touch upon those and belch whatever comes to mind. We had in common that we'd both raised two kids, a girl and a boy so we had plenty of stories to share on that front. Sitting in the living room of the suite, Bonnie and I picked up on earlier phone conversations and completed each story – this time with the added bonus of seeing facial expressions that rose and fell with subject matter. Tears for the sad or proud moments, laughter, lot's of laughter for those moments that only parents of teenagers can grasp. By now, Laura had tired of the lane of memories we had tread and went to get a good night's rest. Bonnie and I sat on the sofa and talked and talked and talked. Then, as evening turns to night turns to early morning, the other important subjects are discussed. Music! She produced a couple of her early recordings on cassette and it was decided to go to her car and listen to these rough gems. It was good to hear her first recordings, but after listening to her latest CD I could hear when the trained, sweet voice of these early cuts became the powerful, soulful voice of the latest. It was an amazing transformation and one I'll not soon forget.
The sillies began at about 2:20 am. We discussed again our innocent past together and our resulting friendship. Then we laughed about why I had left her alone at the seventh grade dance (this stupid move on my part lead directly to the breakup...I was too shy to tell her that I couldn't dance).
At this point Bonnie starts the Lexus and drives away from the hotel parking lot, her music playing on the car stereo, her singing right along with it. We drove the 30 miles through the black Tennessee night to Gatlinburg and the high mountain peaks which rise above the small town. After driving up a long and steep road we settled on a dirt patch on the side of the mountain which overlooked the town on one side of the road and the dimly lit valley of resort homes on the other. Above, the stars twinkled brightly.
And on this chilly, beautiful early spring mountain night, this amazing woman took me by the hand, and on this dark roadside parking lot taught me a slow dance while she gently sang my favorite song of hers to me. The years melted away and for a shining, brief moment we were no longer on a Tennessee mountaintop. We were two innocent 12 year olds dancing across the gym floor at Hollis Junior High School, not looking back but looking forward. It was a moment that will be with me always, and the thought of it will always bring with it a smile.