Field Trip

Our quartet is made up of two men and two ladies, ages ranging from early fifties to early eighties. No one really young, nobody senile (as far as one can tell). I am one of the two male members and the oldest of the band (no novelty).

We are a foursome attributable mostly to me. One is a woman I worked with way back, another I taught with pretty far back too, and the other gent I met through a gay publishing group. Acquaintances of mine for a couple of decades and a lot more. In time the three others came and met each other, and are by now not romantic partners but meaningful friends. A group as comfortable as old shoes.

I see these people more than they see each other. When we're together we laugh and have a good time, but it doesn't happen often. What does happen is that we meet once a year at least (insisted on the calendar often by me). I like to call our meeting a field trip, because it involves a journey reachable by car on a one-day outing, somewhere out of town (out of New York) to bask in the pleasure of a place with contrast to the big city where three of us live. The city folks don't own cars, so the other male member rents one and acts as driver/navigator/often planner. Menu for every destination includes lots of trees, maybe lake water, open air. Enough for half a day.

Here's what I especially like about our group: we've come from different backgrounds (one foreign) and different religions, enjoy different tastes (though we're predictably all Democrats). Only one of us has been married. Unlike most four-sided hands, which often get formed in college or earlier, we got formed later, relatively late, where I believe the odds diminish. In my mind, that makes the group more valuable.

When the day comes for our field trip, I sometimes realize that I haven't gotten out of Manhattan in half a year. Not healthy!

This weekend we motored (as they say) up to Connecticut for a wonderful outdoor lunch in the kind of town where everyone looks unhurried and polite. (I grew up in that kind of milieu in Texas, but it's not the profile of Manhattan, where I've lived a long time.) Our navigator friend took us up the Saw Mill Parkway, a beautiful stretch of road with only groves and groves of trees, spared from billboards. Other outings have brought us south in New Jersey, with stops by lakes and small towns that seemed created for relaxing, eating and antiquing.

The one non-New Yorker in our group lives in New Jersey, not so far from Manhattan, in what is known as a house, with, behind, what is known as a yard or garden, with flowers and fragrant herbs. She invites us for dessert at the end of the afternoon, and the other three of us stretch out on lawn chairs,,in her garden, breathe deeply, and sigh. If you read this sitting in your house, you may not find that fact worthy of attention. If you live in an apartment, you'll be understanding.

I don't remember exactly who originated the idea for our field trips or when they began--ten years ago at least--and I can't predict how long they'll continue, as age does intrude. But I hope we continue as friends, and even with spare number of meetings, the field trips, too. They're a reminder of the blessing of friendship, and the joy of fresh air.

Stanley Ely writes about friends in his book, "Life Up Close, a Memoir" in paperback and ebook.