If Nostalgia Could Kill

There was the summer of whiskey and soda. And we bought big bottles of Jim Beam, with little hope of finishing. And we were regulars, with jukebox favorites and never-ending bowls of over-salted popcorn,

There were the weeks we were snowed in. When the town was Alaska. When a trip to the grocery store was a mountaineering expedition. There were Hot Toddys downtown, ugly sweater parties and German spiced wine.

There were the Thursdays when we’d read the epistles. A six-pack of beer and St. Paul guided our thoughts. We asked questions and waited for new episodes of the Office.