The Lake Today

It’s early in the morning, the day before Christmas Eve and I am sitting at my son’s dining room table in the St. Louis area writing this column.

When I arrived yesterday afternoon, I discovered that several of his friends were already in residence having come to spend the night at Jon’s house and take advantage of the variety of stores here to purchase those last minute gifts for their wives and children.

A much more subdued group than they were in earlier days, their activities seemed to consist of hitting the local stores in the afternoon and early evening, then watching a small portion of the Missouri - Illinois basketball game. Pretty normal activities for men approaching their 40s, but a whole lot different than those days when they were in college and life was more about partying than responsibility.

Among the group is Jon’s best friend whose given name is Eric, but whom everyone knows as “Hug.” A big, tough, mean looking college football player, who is in fact the kindest, most huggable human being you can imagine. Hence the nickname “Huggy Bear.”

The two men have a long standing, solid relationship that goes back to their first days in college and has withstood innumerable transfers to different colleges, relocating for better jobs, as well as marriage and raising families. But, I remember those college days well.

Both young men started school at the same university and, being there on athletic scholarships, lived in the same area on campus. The college was in northeast Missouri and Hug was perfectly content in the rural setting, but Jon wasn’t. After just a couple of months, he was driving back to the Illinois Quad Cities for the weekend and by the end of his first year had transferred to a university closer to home. But being separated by distance didn’t hurt the boy’s friendship. In fact it seemed to strengthen it.

As a defensive tackle, once the football season ended, Hug was left with little to do after class, at a time when Jon, being an outfielder, was heavily into baseball practice. But the fact that Jon had little free time didn’t stop Hug from spending his weekends in the Quad Cities.

It became routine for my husband and I to be awakened in the wee hours of the morning by a knock on our bedroom window and a tentative voice saying, “Mom, I don’t have any place to sleep. Could you let me in?”

Sometimes Hug came alone and sometime he brought friends with him, but single or in the company of others he spent many a weekend in our basement recreation room. If Jon happened to have a free evening he would spend the night with the guys, but he was frequently required to stay on campus or even travel for an away game. Still Hug showed up to “spend the weekend with Jon.” So much so that to this very day I still think of him as my other son and he still calls me “Ma.”

But there is one major difference between now and those earlier days. Although Hug and company spent the night in Jon’s basement “recreation room” not once did I have to yell down the stairs threatening bodily harm if the noise didn’t stop immediately.