You're one in 1,271.... and not in the good way.

I've been wasting time today, on my day off, since it's kind of cool, cloudy and rainy outside.

Though, if I were a smarter man, I'd have walked around in it, if only to remind me of Portland. Maybe I would have been able to fool myself into thinking that I was walking around in the Alphabet district... only steps away from my favorite sushi joint, where it's happy hour all day, every day. (i guess it's not really happy hour, just happy day, or days... without the Fonz though) or from my favorite microbrew and restaurant, The Laurelwood... where it feels like you're at an old friend's house... not just because of the service, but because it really is an old house, though the beer is much better than any friend has ever served me.

And, oh Lord... how I wish I could sit and have a burger at the Helvetia Tavern, with its thousands of hats hanging above my head.... forget to bring cash, and have to use the ATM there, sacrificing 7 dollars in fees to get a single crisp 20 dollar bill to pay for the best burger I've ever had, along with the several beers to wash it down.

From here, I'd be teasingly close to the coast, a surfboard and a post-session coffee at the best coffee shop known to this man; Waves Of Grain Bakery in Cannon Beach, OR. I could, yet again, pretend I'm the 8th Goonie... combing the beach and its caves for buried treasure. Walking along the ocean, befriending the countless dogs that happen to be running around unleashed, chasing Frisbees, tennis balls and other members of the same species.

I did none of these things, regrettably. However, I do not regret that I am here, in Milwaukee. I just miss Portland; I miss Oregon. I miss my old haunts, I miss my old friends... I miss parts of my old life.

I guess that's what pushed me to spend some time pointing and clicking on facebook, and other's 'blogs' this evening. Has it been long enough to term it nostalgia; the force that led me to this? It feels like ages ago at this point...... somehow.... ages since my last night on the lawn of the Donelson house; the last badminton match, the last study session, the last sushi night, the last night of wings... the last chat session.... the last drive away.

What I'm left remembering; what I'm left thinking, is that I made some great friends. I can't say I made 41.... though, I suppose some would claim such a virtue on facebook..... but I can say I made more than a handful. I can name them without thinking. I can tell you something personal about each of them... nothing bad.... but something that makes them uniquely them..... at least in my mind.... something that I always equate to their name, their face.... and their voice.

To be able to know this, makes me feel something that is better than good.

And this isn't something that is fleeting, superficial, or selfish. It is not to garner attention, or mere numbers. It is, simply because it is. Time and care made these friendships what they are. They were not made one night at a bar, through a friend of a friend of a friend, or on an internet site where a florid picture caught my eye; they were made in the proverbial trenches of friendship, of hardship, of obsession, of love... of devotion and tears.

This is why I laughed a sardonic laugh when I laid my eyes upon a friends' facebook profile who had 1,271 "friends." 'I dare you to name a quarter of those souls!' I thought.

but then i thought, could i name the same quarter of my 203 'friends?'

perhaps.

perhaps not.

Maybe I'd rather not know.

What I do know are the faces and stories of those who mean the most to me.... and, I bet that the person with the 1,271 acquaintances has a similar, much smaller group of people, whom she'll never forget, even when she's in the tightest grips of dementia some 70-plus years from now. She just points and clicks more than I do.... So, I decided that I should stop silently judging others, and just live.... and let live, or click.

Though, after I came to this conclusion, and was well with myself again... I began to wonder if I'm one of the quarter she'd be able to name?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

Maybe, I'd rather not know.