St Patrick Would be Proud

I have found that when people move away, the next occasion we meet, they have changed.

Some take on the attributes the city they have moved are well known for. Those few people who used to speak to me before moving to New York now think I am a Midwestern simpleton with a closed mind and limited pallet. I’ve know a couple people to move to L.A. and to give up meat, pick up a new religion, and have “work” done when they previously made fun of those who had.

The alternative to the Patti Labelle “New Attitude” are the sad sacks. These are the people who left the big mitten to follow their dreams, only to find that being in a new place the same old problems are still there, but your friends are a long distance phone call, long drive, or flight, away making it hard to support you. When I was a sad sack in a foreign land, making new friends was very hard, finding people with similar values impossible, and figuring out where to meet and make new friends… well I just left at that point giving up on that crazy scheme.

Our good friend Hollywood returned for the St. Patrick’s celebration. We were very happy to see him. He had been such an important part of our crew we were sad to see him go, but hey, the guy has a dream.

I am happy to report that Hollywood has NOT changed. He is the same wonderful guy full of wit and wonderment that we have always been fond of. His new city is lucky to have the guy.

So this is what we did. We called each other. Met at a place that served beer and food (I know, so hard to find one that sells both these days) then watched basketball, swapped stories, and laughed. We laughed a lot.

There was this really odd statistic about the state of Michigan in the late 80’s that claimed more people are born, leave Michigan, and then return to die here. I don’t even know if you can track something like that. On antidotal stories, I can tell you it is a fading sentiment if it were ever true. Let’s hope Hollywood much success, and if he were to return, it would be on his own terms.

This is not us... but a reminder of what we sang.
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