Speechwriting: Corporate, Weddings, Retirement


Lemonade on the Porch With Old Acquaintances

2:28 am. I am awake, working hard on my professional website (unpublished, but coming soon). Church will be hard tomorrow.

As I scanned this weekend's race results, I saw an old friend having run a 5K in my hometown. He himself once among the best runners in Illinois (a 14:58 3-miler), and now, seems to race irregularly just a bit faster than me now. Never knew him well -- we wound up running in Kentucky and California in 1983. In the 1980s, I could not have competed with him. Now? Maybe, but not just yet. So, Gene Krupinski, wave as you pass me.

Also, another old friend seems to have found me on Classmates. Alfonzo Brooks? If you are reading this, post a response so I can get your e-mail address, or look on the bottom left here for mine. He and I took a spontaneous 140-mile bike ride once, and were great friends on track and cross-country.

As I am working on my website, I am asking myself what I have accomplished in my career, throughout the whole range of things I have done. My resume, like most people's, is a careful retelling of a complex tale. With a complete professional services site, I can rebuild into it all my experiences, insofar as they relate.

One friend often looked longingly toward our high school reunion. I wondered why. Those days were what they were, but are gone. Great memories or awful ones, now, as I get older, I wish I could do what I did when I was 18. Now, recently married, that friend doesn't quite ache for that reunion. That changes things, doesn't it? This day looks better than those days.

As I work through my poetry, trying to reduce it down to what is worthy of submission, I relive memories and emotions. Why did I write a given piece? Was it a writing exercise, or was I exorcising some intensity in my heart? Deep blues, joy, funk, or folk? Was I trying to make a point? I go through it all over again.

Ran across a grade school friend, Jeff Malicki, or, rather, his name. His sister, Sherri, and I were great buddies in preschool. He introduced to what became a favorite song, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, in 1976, the year after it came out.

I found Cheyenne Brown, a funky harpist, bending notes so that it comes somewhere between a jazz guitar, a sitar and an autoharp. No idea who she is, but I like it. Thinking about it, a dear friend from college, played the autoharp, seeing it as a simple instrument for the mission field.

It is taking a lemonade on a porch with old acquaintances. There are lots of lemons, plenty of sugar, and water meant for drinking with our soul.

Against All Odds (Take A Look At Me Now)
Phil Collins

For kicks, I took a listen to the Eagles' Hotel California as well, the acoustic version.
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