LOVE AND MARRIAGE

I had a buddy a long time ago. We were unlikely friends. I was unabashedly baudy and loud. Stevie was a hot, young bartender at the high end hotel where I just happened to be the piano broad. As Kurt Vonnegut says...and so it goes.

Stevie had an Achilles heel and I found it. Despite his desire to be an aloof God of Gorgeous, he had a sense of humor. I had no more interest in his body than I did in pursuing a degree in quantum physics. I wanted a big laugh at the end of my night. And I found it. He was embarrassed by the fact that I made him laugh out loud and he often tried to "tone me down" all to no avail. Eventually, I won him over to the dark side...which is actually the road to the light.

I wish that those of us who are not pretty people had an easier road to the place I was able to bring my friend. At that time, I was a Diva and doing what I loved in life. It was easy to tell him to forget what others think of you...have a good time.

My fondest memory of Stevie is when I was playing at another club and he was still tending bar at the hotel. It was just before Christmas and I told him that we ought to go to one of the department stores that was open all night. I talked him into riding a Hotwheels up and down the aisles until a manager yelled at us. He was euphoric! We went and had a drink and laughed about how he'd never done anything like that before.

Stevie fell in love with a beautiful young lady and I was ecstatic for him. He asked me to sing at his wedding and I was so honored. They picked out the songs and I labored over them, hoping that they would be perfect. In the months that followed, I saw less and less of my friend. That was to be expected. We touched base on this and that, mostly about the wedding but always with some nonsense and laughter. Soon, it was a week away...Stevie would enter his new life.

I was busy with my engagement at the club and sitting on the hard wood floor of my apartment with my guitar. It was about four days before the wedding. There came a knock on my door. I opened it to find Stevie with a six pack of beer.

"I missed your face." One great big grin from my buddy standing at my door.

So, there to the old couch and me and my pal and stories and laughing like nobody's business. All the stuff of every friend and everything we had and knew in common. All the stuff you can cram into three beers apiece and then we were dry drinking the last can each. Knowing what was coming. Happy for the new life but accepting with each "sshuh" of that empty can that it was done.

We sent Christmas cards for a while. I still think of him on his birthday. I figure he still remembers mine, since he showed up when I turned 30 to make sure I didn't commit suicide.

I guess I'll never entirely figure out why you have to lose friends because they get married. That was not the first time and certainly not the last. I cry sometimes, but I laugh most times. They gave me so much. I miss the nonsense. I miss the laughter. I miss them all. But maybe the ones who are a part of our past are meant to be just that. Perhaps you can't fix perfection.

I am so lonely for the laughter. More than anything. There is no way to replace it. So I will just go on. I could have missed them. I could have walked on by. But I was once blessed with their presence in my life. I was once blessed with friends who made me laugh. I was once blessed with friends who loved me. They will live in my heart forever.

And...as my friend Kurt Vonnegut, now passed, says...and so it goes.

I was working on spreadsheets this afternoon when breaking news showed on MSNBC, which I usually monitor without sound while I work. So, I saw the moment when it was announced that the last of our combat troops have left Iraq.

A brilliantly planned exit authorized by the Obama administration and coordinated with the Pentagon has been ongoing on while we've slept. As I sit, comfortably in my living room writing these words, Richard Engel, the embedded reporter who was authorized by the pentagon to break the news, is standing in Kuwait watching the last of the American Combat Troops entering Kuwait.

This final exit was planned to take place during Ramadan to assure a safe departure and was described as almost a "taxi caravan." They took the main highways out of the country while dawn was approaching.

While 50,000 consultants remain, they are mostly contractors and not combat troops. Horns are honking, people are in tears. As am I. My heart has been beating out of my chest since about 4:00 this afternoon.

I will save the discussions on the contentious issues of this war. I will have many occasions to discuss this. I'm looking at unabashed joy on the face of Richard Engel. I just watched the gates close as the last vehicle passed through. I'm watching seasoned television analysts with red blotches on their cheeks. Richard smiled and described the tent which is the first stop for our troops as thick with cigar smoke.

I pray for the Iraqi people who have to try to get through their daily lives...a labor and a hardship greater than the poorest of the poor in America. They are as much my brothers and sisters walking on this blue ball circling the universal sky as my next door neighbor. We will not forget them and we will talk about this in days to come.

But for the moment, I want to rejoice with every mother, father, brother, sister, daughter, son, relative, friend, and citizen of this country who, with heart pounding, is awaiting the return of our precious treasure. While Iraq is not in our past, the war is over. I didn't think I'd ever be able to print those words.

Just at the moment when faith runs its course, a reason to believe begins its life. And so it goes...

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