When we were young

This thing called time is such a fickle lady. There was a time, oh so long ago, when we were young, and it seemed as if we would be that forever. But my, my, my has that changed.

There we were, dang near all of us, saying goodbye to a good guy, then taking the time to spin tales of our, er, youth. Tales that won't be told again I would imagine till the next time we all come together. I suspect that, too, will be at a funeral. And I regret that terribly. There we were, gray haired or hair packed up and gone like memories in the cold night. There we were, living together again in the same space for a few short minutes.

Time is such a fickle lady.

We came together in Jackson, Miss., yesterday to say goodbye to one Orley Hood, whom my son used to call Oreo Hood when Jason was a tike because he couldn't say Orley, and it was a fine send off. Better than most. I would put it up there with the Eddie Robinson funeral I attended in that other career I had so long ago.

It was folks telling stories about Orley, folks who loved him (which was as near as I can figure everyone he ever met and quite a few he hadn't). My goodness would he have loved to have been there. Even a former governor of the great state of Mississippi was there, all remembering the writer, the man, the husband, the father that was Orley.

It was a group that much of the state of Mississippi will never again see the like of. Really. I never realized we were that uncommon. For a while, four of us hung together at the Meridian Star. Starting out. Trying to figure out this thing called writing. Loving sports more than loving writing at the beginning, then finding out writing is something more than sports, something more than we ever knew it to be.

We never dreamed it would be a lifetime. But it was, it really, really was. It's been some 35-40 years ago for most of us. Four of us  -- Billy Watkins, David Rainer, our boss Mac Gordon, Bill Zimmerman -- were together 40 years ago. Way back at the beginning. When what we knew then was staggeringly different and amazingly tiny to what we think we know now.

We did it up well, laughing, tearing up, laughing again. Stories I didn't even remember at one point, though apparently I was there because in at least one I was a main character. I hugged some folks I desperately miss to this day, I pondered faces that proved to be somewhat recognizable but not totally, and I said hello to some folks who apparently knew me but I sorrowfully did not remember.

That fickle lady takes away memory and leaves only wrinkles behind.

As my son, Jason, and I drove away from the "wake," ironicalIy at a club he plays music all the time, I suggested that we would probably never do this again. I wished that were not true, but it likely is. As Bob sang about all those years ago, "deadlines and commitments; what to leave in, what to leave out. Against the wind, I'm still running against the wind. We're older now but still running against the wind."

As someone said when talking about what was, that newsroom that built comradarie in ways nothing else could match, there is no there anymore. It's true. What was is simply not there any longer. At one point the two sister newspapers had a total of 28 writers and editors. I doubt the whole newspaper in Jackson now has that many.

We built it, and at the end, no one came. Newspapers went and left us for the most part, and all of us scattered into the wind.

Then Tom died.Then Orley died. We're one day closer to death, and we all looked around and smiled at how fickle lady time has been.

But wasn't it a joy when we were young and full of a lot of things including ourselves?

Yes, Orley would have loved this.

In fact, I'll be he probably did. I'm glad Mary let me come. I'm very glad we did it. I'm very happy today that God has allowed me this path. I've always had the great privilege of being able to do exactly the things I wanted to do most, the things I've loved most.

I'm not who I was all those years ago, and that's a very good thing. But aside from the occasional story I don't want to even think about, the good news is God has been with me all the way.

We were once bad in our youth, in our stupidity. Now many of us have been given a second chance. I wished we could have spent more time talking about it.

Maybe next time. I hope there is a next time and all of us can be there.

Till then, here's to Orley. Thanks, old friend.