Beltsville Shell You Are What You Drive Reunion # 15
In April we gathered for the 15th Beltsville Shell
Reunion. Once again, Herman hosted the
event – the eighth time he has graciously opened his garage to family and
friends.
Like so many years before, the gathering was filled with
good humor, great food, and unrestrained friendship. Spring had arrived in Maryland delivering us
a nice day for our event. As we drove up
the gravel driveway to Herman’s, the smell of charcoal and barbequed meat
filled the air. Tables and chairs were
arranged in two of the three car bays with plenty of food for all. Nace and Sonny kept their streak going – they
have attended every BSYAWYD reunion since 2002.
They were joined by two dozen of the Beltsville faithful.
As much as we share history, we also share a life-long love
of cars that endures to the present. The
ultimate experience at a reunion is to bring a cool car for everyone to
enjoy. Best of all, we have been witnessing the evolution of Herman’s truck –
which he has built from scratch starting with bare metal pieces, personally shaping
and welding each part, until they have been assembled into a work of automotive
art.
I can’t explain why, but a distant memory has come upon me
as I contemplated writing about our gathering.
In 1968 I was introduced to the music of Simon and Garfunkel when I
purchased a batch of 8-track tapes from Jeff Hughes to entertain myself while
driving my 1959 Corvette. In addition to
the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean, there was a tape with songs from two guys
whose poetry, sense of rhyme, and thought-provoking music spoke to me in a way
that no other music had. I enjoyed
everything they wrote, played the songs over and over, and memorized much of
what I heard. Everyone knows their most
popular songs: “Mrs. Robinson”, “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, “The Boxer”,
“Cecilia”, and more.
I’m surprised that my memory of the song, “Old Friends” has
endured. It now holds meaning that it
could not have had in the 1960’s.
The song begins with Paul and Art observing two old men in a
park.
Old
friends, old friends,
Sat
on their parkbench like bookends
A
newspaper blown through the grass
Falls
on the round toes
of
the high shoes of the old friends
Old
friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost
in their overcoats, waiting for the sun
The
sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settles
like dust on the shoulders of the old friends
Their song suddenly turns to themselves, contemplating fifty years into
the future.
Can
you imagine us years from today,
Sharing
a parkbench quietly
How
terribly strange to be seventy
Most of the BSYAWYD group are facing the age of Septuagenarians. We return to Beltsville to see each other,
relive the happy times of our youth, remember teen club on Friday nights at the
Beltsville Volunteer Fire Department, shopping at Boteler’s Store, riding Go
Karts unrestrained on Beltsville’s streets, falling in love, cruising to the
Mighty Mo on weekends, learning the fine art of street racing, and having days
and nights filled with crazy fun.
The town we grew up in doesn’t exist anymore – except, perhaps, in our shared
memories.
Old
friends, memory brushes the same years,
Silently
sharing the same fears
When we get together we savor the past, and celebrate the present, but
the thing we rarely speak of is the future.
We have all witnessed the fading of friends, and losses to disease. There will be other times and places better
suited to those thoughts.
Time
it was, and what a time it was, it was
A
time of innocence, A time of confidences
Long
ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve
your memories; They're all that's left you…
I think our group is very blessed to have stayed connected
in a rich, caring, comfortable way for more than 50 years. I thank each of you for this wonderful
experience and for lasting friendship.
I wonder what Paul and Art would have written about us?
