I have always been fascinated by the never-ending whines about Mondays coming from people, especially working-class heroes out there, who appear to be constantly reeling from their weekend overloads. At least, I’m free of that. In fact, even when I was still working the nine-to-five route, that has never been the case for me. Happily, during one five-year stretch, Mondays were days when I always felt an extra bounce on the balls of my feet. That was when I’d eagerly anticipate merienda cena with a few close friends of more than fifty or so years. We’d be like druids or Gandalf-like characters sitting at a table harping about days long gone or formulating exotic potions and formulas. Our reunions would be like that Simon & Garfunkel song about old friends sitting on a park bench like bookends. Whenever our 3:00 mini-break came during those Monday afternoons of long ago, I remember we were like noisy high-schoolers let loose once again, laughing heartily at the slightest recollections of days gone by. Judging from a constant stream of social media posts from former classmates and high school batch from our golden age, it’s safe to say, at least most of them still have great moments for get-togethers and coffee sit-downs. Old friends also encompass those whom we’ve felt special bonds with, not exclusive of only school and classmates. If someone insisted on a detailed and categorized list, then I’d let three to seventy years duration be one among the criteria, if not lower, as long as ‘special bonds’ are included as operative tags. Besides, how are you going to fit all those in a park bench?
