Once in a Lifetime

by Jen Telger

“Once in a lifetime” is a term often used to describe individual moments, snippets of life. Perfectly timed photos. Lightning strikes. Lottery draws. Grand experiences normally out of reach. Fortuitous happenstances that could never happen again in a million tries. But what happens when that once-in-a-lifetime moment lasts two-and-a-half years?

Last night, many of us gathered to celebrate and remember our friend, Brian. He would’ve hated it. But it was lowkey. No big speeches or tear-jerking montages, just people. Some there were Brian’s recent or current coworkers, others from times gone by. I nestle firmly into the latter group.

Faces were the same and different. Recognizable, yet with the understanding that so much has happened to each of us during the time we have been apart. Of course, some faces took a little longer for my brain to connect to the people I once knew well. Once recognized, I easily reconciled their 20-something personas with the 40-something faces before me.

And then there were faces that I would recognize instantly no matter where in the world I happened to be. As I walked into the Ground Round, not entirely sure where I was going, I turned toward the bar. My eyes locked with a set at the bar as Craig’s familiar mischievous grin broke open and reflected on my own face. My heart sang! I was instantly transported back twenty years. Twenty years that felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago. Hugging commenced.

I couldn’t place the other face across the bar. So familiar, but my brain couldn’t find the right file. “Steve” Craig said. Holy shit, it sure was! Gosh, did I look that different to everybody? Would they recognize me?

We were soon summoned to the back room by my adopted, older-than-me son, Pete, and his bionic arm. Don’t do the math. Suffice it to say that some of my gray hairs are twenty-plus years old and have his name all over them. Thankfully, our vehicles didn’t meet on the road there or I’d have probably added a few more.

We walked into the back room. More grins and more hugs. Petey, and Erik, another brother-in-arms. Two more faces and voices I would know anywhere. The warm fuzzies threatened to breach the levee. The list went on. Steve and his wife Janelle. Brian C- who lived close to my house growing up and whose children I babysat when I was younger, before we worked together – sat at the end of the table. Extra memories there, and some geriatric pangs as I realized his kids are long grown. Scott, another face I needed help with, but which fell instantly into place upon hearing the name.

We all chatted, and I met new people. Hearing the current stories from a place I left long ago was fascinating and hilarious. ‘The more things change’, as they say.

A text from Stacy told me that she and her husband, Tim, would be along eventually. I was looking forward to a more in-depth catch-up than we usually get when I stop by her family’s garden center. By the way, my gorgeous bougainvillea is entirely her fault and I love her for it.

Steve and Jeannie arrived, and I was thrilled to see they’d made it down. Stacy and Jeannie were my sisters-in-arms back in the day, along with Meg and Brandy. We were even-keeled chicks surrounded by hot-shot cowboys and managed to balance out the testosterone nicely while rocking things ourselves.

As the evening waned and people began to peel off, there we sat: Craig, Erik, Petey, Stacy, Jeannie, Steve, and me. We shared stories about our lives as they are now. Kids, pets, and spouses have been added in various places throughout our collective. We recalled stories of Brian and each other (I’d forgotten the one about the day B showed up late because the cops had chased someone onto his roof ). We laughed. We missed our friend together. These were my ride-or-die crew for two-and-a-half years that felt like a lifetime. And last night, we seamlessly picked right up where we’d left off 21 years ago. There aren’t many people in life one can do that with and, even more rarely, as a group.

I sat listening to the stories, occasionally telling one. Heads bobbed, jokes resurfaced, snark and sarcasm took their rightful places. The wrinkles on our faces faded. The gray in our hair disappeared. The weariness in our some-more-battered-than-others bones (I’m lookin’ at you, Pete ) subsided. For those few hours, we were back there at Benchmark East. Twenty- and young thirty-somethings with the world on a string, working hard, playing hard, and gettin’ shit done.

The fascinating thing is, memories from two decades ago were recalled nearly identically for all of us. It wasn’t history rewritten or enhanced for posterity or storytelling. I think we all realized in the time together last evening that what we had as a group back then was once-in-a-lifetime. It was a family we never could have anticipated, designed, or replicated. It was special. Right place, right time, right members, right leader.

These people changed my life for the better and I love them dearly.