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That pretty much said it all. They sipped their beers in silence for a few moments, and I really didn't catch much else of what they were talking about. It's true though. A lot of people are dead. I found myself thinking of Crazy George, now dead, who used to come busting in just about every bar I ever cared to sit at on a Friday night. It didn't matter where you went, George made the rounds and passed through most places in town. Though he was always "on the way" to some German club in Ohio, so he never stayed long. I miss old George. I got his Christmas card the day after they found him dead. That felt strange. No one was ever sure what he died from. Everyone should have an eccentric, unpredictable friend, just to keep life interesting and have good stories to tell. He will live on through stories for many years. Like the time he caught the bar on fire doing flaming shots. That sort of thing.
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It's nice to see people from out of town at the holidays. Catch them up with what is going on here. See what life is like "out there." Wherever "there" is. One thing is for sure, a lot of people, (the ones who aren't dead), left here for jobs. I miss those people. Sometimes I think about what the town would be like if they had stayed, found work, built homes, had children here, etc. Continuing the cycle. We have a dying town. And, though we love it, the underlying sense of loss is always there. You can see it in the eyes of every parent who has to take their grown children back to the airport. Or trudge off to the Post Office to mail gifts to rarely seen grandchildren.
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The ham is in the oven. The house smells good. I'm done shopping. All good things. - Some of us are still here.
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