There was cake, and Stroh's, and laughter. Lots of laughter.

I walked through the town of my young manhood, looking for the concrete remnants of an ethereal past.

Because when you go back to your boyhood home, you're not looking for your home; you're looking for your boyhood.

I found myself in the Lake Town on a Sunday evening; the sun was just so in the western sky, and although it was deep summer, the air was cool as I walked along the Great Lake.

I hoped, somehow, that all those voices and all those people would magically come out of the woods or the woodwork, changed not in the least, and take me down the road to a clearing where we could all play kick the can and Rod Serling would make us young again.

Actually, I was hoping to see one familiar face; and terrified at the same time that I would.

So, I walked.

I found myself on the high end of town, somewhere between Town and Gown.  The shadows were getting longer as I walked what was once a familiar path down the street to the house on the corner of Avenue and Street.....the intersection between past and present.

The site of my first marriage.

Now, before you jump out of your skin, let me finish my story........

When I was a young man, in the Fall of Eightysomething, I played a scratcher game in the Mitten Lottery and won a sizable amount of money.  I can remember the night clearly; I bought the thing at a place called The Sunshine Stop, and was scratching it as the a very attractive girl drove us down the street toward my rented abode.  When I finally counted up all the numbers, I was shocked to find out just how much I had in my hand.

I mean, I would have settled for a hundred.  Or even a thousand.

This was waaaaay more than that.

And I announced it, quite loudly, in the car.

The very attractive girl's response was unforgettable: "No, you didn't."

So, in that moment, it became more important to convince her of my veracity than it was to actually enjoy holding the golden ticket in my hand.

After a while, she believed it.

And on we went to my rented abode.  But not for what you may think; that came later and is a much longer story.....

We eventually wound up at a party the house at the corner of Avenue and Street; and as I came into the room, there was an announcement (thought not by me) that the room was in the presence of a reasonably wealthy guy.....

The next thing was a blur.

Literally, a blur:  a petite blonde girl apparently launched herself at me.  I distinctly remember her knees hitting me in the chest, knocking me flat with the petite blonde girl on my chest, screaming a proposal of marriage at me as if I was the finish line of some long dreamt-of race.

Did I mention she was petite and blonde?  And I was a guy?

Flash forward a few months, when the winds began to blow and the rain began to fall and the frost began to frost......it was time for a party.....

So, the petite blonde and myself put together a wedding; well, more to the point, it was a reception, followed by, perhaps, if we got around to it, a ceremony where we would betroth ourselves to each other for.....well, it turned out to be quite a long time.

For we are married to other people, and we live in different parts of the continent, and we have not set eyes upon each other since about nineteen eightysomething.....but we still refer to each other as "first husband" and "first wife."

It was a party for the ages.  And I went home alone; which was okay.  For the blonde girl meant much more to me at that time than could be measured by any intimate conclusion to the evening.

Flash forward several decades........and I'm standing in front of the house.  We are both much changed.  And I can hear, distinctly, the sounds of the house at full tilt......and I can see the faces of those people, all spread to the four winds now......replaced by a whole generation of new faces and new experiences in that old house.

I don't stand there very long; I don't want to be mistaken for a peeper or a stalker...I continue the walk, back to the Lake shore, back to life in the present......

Those are the moments you wonder why people don't just ask you why you're grinning like an idiot.