I met an old, very old friend today. The first old is because we are about the same age, one each side of 80. The second old, a very old, is because we last saw each other in about 1970, over 40 years ago. I had been warned that he would be at this reunion of one-time neighbors, after he married at a late age into “the crowd”. I remembered with warmth how well we had had got on back then and I looked forward to seeing him now and perhaps sharing some early memories of different times.
The visit involved the long drive to Jerusalem in heavy traffic and I had plenty of time to prepare a good greeting and run through some of the things we had done together all those years ago. Would recognize each other straight off? Or would we have to be re-introduced? 40 years is a long time. Have I changed? I’m certainly 40 years older, my hair style has changed, er, gone, and I have put on a bit of weight, meaning I was terribly thin back then, not overweight now.
We arrived and walked into the room. I saw him and I felt my jaw slacken momentarily before it dropped and hit the floor. That old guy slumped in the chair over by the window is my friend? I can’t believe it! His hair is white and that long white beard? He stood up – wow, look how bet he is! Why are his eyes so bloodshot? We stammered greetings to each other and shook hands. Where is that firm handshake of his that I remember so well? Why is he talking in a hoarse whisper?
We hugged for an instant and clapped each other on the back. This man isn’t my old friend!
What did he think of me?
