Thursday, March 11, 2021


There were eight of us, four fraternity brothers and their girlfriends.  We met when I was a sophomore at Cornell.  We've stayed in touch ever since. 

Two couples are still married, five decades after we were together in Ithaca.  One marriage ended in divorce, despite the lime green tuxedos at their wedding which, we were certain, would keep them together forever, just so as not to have to repeat that sartorial faux pas again.  

And the other couple?  Their story is the stuff of Grimm.

They were gorgeous - He, tall and blonde, and She slight, with long dark hair.  They didn't share a religion or ethnic background, and that put paid to the relationship as far as all 4 parents were concerned.  Their vitriol was toxic.  It was impossible for our friends'  relationship to endure.  

They broke up.  They each married (unsuitable) others.  Neither of those relationships were destined for success; their hearts were still in Ithaca, dancing at parties, hiking the gorges, playing cards with friends.  There were children born of those marriages, Hers, which ended in divorce and His in a long term separation.  

Though they hadn't seen one another for years, their hearts were always attached.

And then He moved away from his wife, and She was close by visiting one of us, and that friend suggested that they drive down and see him.  

It was as if nothing had changed.  This was where they were meant to be.  

It wasn't a public reconciliation.  His children didn't know.  Only certain friends were informed. They were together and didn't need marriage or a public announcement.  They had one another and that was enough.

They both had health issues, and his claimed him last week.  The loss of this big, generous, thoughtful athlete, the man whose papers I typed, who played pool and drank beer with me at The Salty Dog  after the other 6 had graduated and left town, who lived on a turkey farm and captured one to share with a class of schoolkids,  who played varsity basketball and captained the lacrosse team at the same time when the hoopsters needed more players to fill out their roster is unimaginable.  Glen lives in our memories;  it's hard to imagine that he's not here on earth, too.

We're at the age where this is happening with alarming frequency.  He was a big part of our past, and a heartwarming part of our present.  She is glad to have had the time together.

It should have been more.


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