The Gang’s Back Together

The end of the 90s and beginning of the aughts was a transitional time for me as well as for many of my friends.  Those of us who had spent our college years and our twenties in Home Park, Atlanta’s white slum, were moving on with our lives and our careers.  For many, they didn’t just move out of Home Park, but out of state and out of my day-to-day life. 

It was true for every one of us of the late 90s Home Park diaspora: as old pals moved out of our circle of friends, new ones entered.  JP, a longtime friend, ended up sharing a house in East Atlanta with Brian, one of my then new friends.  Over the years my social group slowly shifted from old friends to new as my attentions moved from Atlanta’s west side to its east.

At one point, all three of us had dogs.  Brian had Mags, a German shepherd mix.  JP had Gracie, an Aussie.  I had a Canaan Dog named Dre.  For years, as we spent time with each other, our dogs spent time together.  The younger two of the three, Gracie and Dre, would run and wrassle while the oldest, Mags, commissioner of the no fun league, laid down the law.  There was a roughly eight-year span that their lives overlapped, that they were a pack. 

A little over five years ago, we lost two of the group: one from old age and the other from disease.  Gracie was the last remaining of her peers.

Today Gracie Marie Leonard left this world.  A good dog who had a good run is finally at rest.

When I found out about this through Facebook, I felt I had to comment back to JP.  But, I also felt I had to tell Brian, who isn’t on Facebook.  During our text exchange, Brian and I both had the same though: the gang is back together.

Why did I feel that I had to contact Brian as soon as I found out?  I think information like this is best spread through the network of friends by those who understand the context and the connections among us.  It’s better to hear this information from someone who understands your relationship to people and your perspective on the situation than to just hear it through the grapevine.  That kind of understanding is only gained over time and through shared experiences.  Friendships, good friendships, last longer than a dog’s age.

JP, buddy, it’s Thursday night.  Let’s do what we’ve been doing for roughly fifteen years.  Come on over to Lynch’s.  Have a beer.  Play some foosball.  We’ll raise a glass to Gracie and another to those no longer with us.

Mags, Dre, and Gracie have all crossed the rainbow bridge.  The gang’s back together.