Winged Crisscrossing

Yesterday was spent bouncing around the southern corners of New England for very good reasons. We started out with a journey south into the traffic quagmire known as Connecticut with a new destination in mind. Instead of our usual trip to New Haven to catch a NYC bound train we veered north of Hartford to pick up Wingman who’d caught a red eye flight from L.A. He flew back to support a friend who lost his father unexpectedly (kind of who he is). He had a couple of free hours so we trekked down to spend time with our favorite son in law.

Wingman Sporting his New 'Stache Following Our Kidnapping of Him

I’d forgotten the Hartford airport is in reality nowhere near Hartford so the trip took longer than expected. Wingman had used the ensuing time to scout out lunch venues and expertly pinpointed a nearby barbecue smoke house which fell victim to our foray. Wingman was sporting a new moustache, tailored to honor the departed father of his friend. He was full of updates on his upcoming farewell tour with the band and of course, his peerless daughter. I could tell he was missing her a lot. It brought back some memories for myself sitting in a jungle bohio in Panama missing the mother of his daughter. He’d spent some time at LAX waiting for his plane watching the video baby monitor and saw his daughter wake up and start her day. Things have progressed a little bit in that arena since 1983.

After a Very Full Lunch

After reluctantly releasing Wingman to his memorial duties we set out for Rhode Island and a visit with our next door neighbors from 1990s. They’re a great couple and we actually lived with them for a few months when I first retired from the Army. He’s Japanese, she’s Portuguese so you throw in the odd Panamanian and a gringo we have our very own melting pot. Even though we’re less than fifty miles apart we’ve done a bad job of staying in touch. Her elderly parents live with them and my wife spent the first hour or so after we arrived showing them pictures of guess who. Once they were thoroughly pummeled with images of my granddaughter my wife moved on to our hosts who received similar treatment. This was topped off with a FaceTime call from my daughter and the object of our serial photo viewing.

My Wife Showing More Pictures to our Hosts Last Night

It was a great evening spent sitting around the dinner table after a scrumptious feast, catching up with friends. My wife had been lured south by a promise of dancing but that fell by the wayside in the face of the serial conversions at play. It struck me at one point in the evening at how interconnected our dual lives had been since first meeting each other back in 1989. They and their boys had always been one of our stops during our holiday trips back to New England from wherever the Army had me stashed. A very fun evening, time with old friends cannot be underestimated.

Granddaughter had Several Friends Over Yesterday to Play