The Circle of Life

I remember piling into the back of my Mom's '59 Bel Air for the infrequent 20 mile expedition into Rockville, and a visit to the Toys R Us. While waiting we would climb up on the trunk and lay back across the  windshield, looking at the tree canopy above. When it was time to go we would slide down the fins.

I would have saved up my $1.68 and would need another 35 cents for the can of spray paint. If I had another 15 cents, I could buy either glue or a jar of paint - but not both. The rest of the day and most of the next would be completely consumed in the building of the new model, but - if we had behaved - not before a stop at the Golden Arches.

Fast forward to the golfing glory of last week, after which came the perfunctory celebrations. While for me this now amounts to being over caffeinated, for my friends it amounts to many car bombs and the like.

OK, not that many. But enough to start leaving a mark around 11:30, when I started getting my chest punctuated by the universal significance of the Jimi Hendrix quote (from If 6 Was 9):

"I'm the one who has to die when it's time for me to die

So let me live my life like I want to"

Not like I was telling anyone how to live, but the discussions had moved into "deep philosophy". Most of you have reached this point in an evening.

The next day, we returned to the Golden Arches. Bob needed his usual remedy as he fought to break through the thick crust of wakefulness, and I learned the philosophy hour was far from over. As he contemplated the last bite of his Egg McMuffin, he pointed out the remaining bits of egg and canadian bacon to me and said:

"You see Rusty, something couldn't live, and something had to die.

All for me."

Popping the last bite into his mouth, we rose to face the insincerity of the day. But I'm not sure I'll ever look at the Egg McMuffin in the same way.