Hey, No Trump This Week.

This will be a lot shorter than my usual drivel and will contain a lot less spleen venting than is my norm. I mean, you all know what he's doing and how nuts it is. The only thing he isn't claiming is that this whole Israel-Iran thing wouldn't have happened if he were President. That and ending the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. Has it been 24 hours yet?

So let me begin by wishing the United States Army a happy 250th birthday. My Dad was in the army during what he jokingly called "the tough years" of "46, '47 and '48.

So, Dad was an early Cold War soldier, only saved from Korea by the advent of, well, me.

Now, I know my colleagues will be writing about the Big Parade, and I mean Biggly. The only thing missing for me was the the simply creepy Stephen Miller (Pee-Wee German) in one of those little Shriner's cars weaving in and out among the tanks.

So I will avoid trying to outdo a couple of fine writers. Instead, I want to talk about the last couple of weeks of my life, and more specifically, the connections I renewed with old friends.

I promise it won't be some maudlin trek down memory lane, but I learned something as well, and I hope I can pass it on to you.

I got a message on Facebook from an old college buddy from the University of Houston Drama Department, whom I hadn't spoken to for maybe 50 years except on Facebook. His name is Chris Mathews and he lived roughly the last 15 years of his life on a boat in the harbor of Charlotte Amalie in St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands.

In other words, he was living the life I'd like to live.

After college, he actually taught theatre at the University of Guam. That's where he met the love of his life.

But during those 15 years on the boat, his beloved wife passed away, and this wonderful boat was a victim of Hurricane Ernesto last summer. So Chris came back to Texas and said this spring that he was making a sweep of the state to reconnect with old friends.

We spent a wonderful Saturday with Mexican food and later wiled away the afternoon, and several margaritas, catching up. I learned things I never knew about our college time and our college friends. I recommend this, particularly if you are like me and just miss all the good gossip and details of your life. My sister tells me this all the time when she regales me with family lore I never knew.

I apparently have been sleepwalking through life, thinking everything is OK. That explains a lot, and yes, I'm looking at you, Dan Patrick.

I have to tell you, it is fun learning about parts of your life you simply missed. And that inspired me to look up my two best friends from high school and college.

Steven Jarrard is a retired lawyer in Elgin, Texas, outside of Austin. He and I were debate partners in high school and enjoyed a fair amount of success. And he went on to become the "Matlock" of central Texas. We caught up on the phone for a good while, and made promises to visit one day.

I then called my best friend of many adventures, who lives in New Mexico, Jim Coates. From hitching across West Texas, debauchery in New Orleans, or a VW van trip through Mexico, Jim and I had a lot of shared good times.

I mentioned him, not by name, in another of my pieces when I talked about abortion and adoption.

For Love of Mary-Brigid

I find myself in a conundrum due to several events in my life. In short, it isn’t cut and dried for either side. But that choice is not mine to make, and certainly not to order for anyone else.

Texas Outlaw WritersRoger T. Gray

And when we talked, he brought up the incident I wrote about wherein we went to New Orleans to spend New Year's Eve with his former college sweetheart who was very pregnant. She had the child and found adoptive parents and I thought that was the end of the story.

I found out from my call that the boy is now a man, natch, and he and Jim's other son have been in contact after doing the 23 and me procedure. He reached out and now Jim has another family member he never anticipated. If I hadn't called, I'd never have known there was a particularly poignant end to the story.

And I suppose that is the point of this short missive. As a man of a certain age, I'm at the point in life where you start to lose friends and family. A cousin I loved dearly just passed away, and again, it brought home the fact that I hadn't spoken to her in decades. Life gets in the way and we compartmentalize those things and consign them to the memory vault until you are snapped out of the fantasy of assuming all those folks are still out there, just as you remember. They aren't and/or won't be. I wrote about that as well.

David Crosby and My Brother | Texas Outlaw Writers

Everyone’s wish for a “Happy New Year” doesn’t stave off personal loss. Grief has no calendar. Before time runs out, there’s something you can do.

Texas Outlaw WritersRoger T. Gray

So, I guess I'm repeating myself, but in this case, I did reach out to old friends before any of us are gone. It felt good, and I loved hearing what had happened in the intervening half century. And I truly think we'll do it again, before someone has to make a sad call about one of us.

It's something I recommend highly. Do it now. I guarantee you won't regret it.