An echo of the past...

An old acquaintance informed me that a tentmate of mine from four decades ago has died.

It's disconcerting, because like Proust's reaction to the taste of his madeleine, hearing my tentmate's name brought back a flood of memories, of what he looked like, of his deadpan sense of humor, of his mannerisms, and of some of the adolescent stunts we pulled after lights out.

I find myself staring off into space, and then snap back to the here and now. It's sad that he died, and probably sadder still that we never kept in touch in the intervening years, but there are bills to be paid.

Cheers...