Thanks for the trip down Amnesia Lane!  As your e-mail arrived on my birthday, I can also safely say, "Thanks for the birthday shit!"  Though for the life of me, I can no longer remember the name of the guy who coined that phrase, only that he smelled bad and we tortured the poor chump to the point that I'm sure he later committed suicide while clutching a photo of us in his right hand.  Lordy, we were evil little bastards.  

Speaking of birthdays, I no longer have that potato.  I donated it years ago to the Museum of Natural History in New York, where it takes up two whole floors by itself and is fed a steady diet of slow moving Girl Scouts.   Your letter really took me back.  I can't believe it has been nearly 34 years since we killed our first goldfish together.  I've been in a lot of bands since then, some good, some bad, but none with the awesome talent required to kill aquatic creatures.  

And Mady!  Man, I haven't thought of her in years.  My memory's not so hot, mostly because even back then I wasn't paying much attention to anything going on around me.  But I do remember Mady eating a banana in Pangborn's class.  I'd never wanted to be a banana before, but I sure did then.  Not sure why ... hmm ...  

She was a cutie, though, wasn't she?  I wonder if she ever got married to that guy she was dating?  Also, I wonder if they still have a copy of our fabulous film down at JC?  (GRCC, now.)   Did you know they used that film for years afterward in that filmmaking class, as a good example of student filmmaking?  I kid you not.  My daughter took the class years later and they still were showing that film to students!  Again, we were ahead of our time; the Spielbergs of our generation.  Can't believe we're not rich yet.  

As to our epic battle outside Terry's house, I seem to recall that I had you pinned to the ground, whining for mercy, when the SWAT team showed up (at least 200 of 'em) and using all the power, training and technology at their disposal, were able to save you from my ferocious, kung foo-like attack ... barely.  Yup, that's how I remember it.  

Actually, I've thought about those days a lot in the past 30 years.  Considering what a complete self-centered yutz I was back then, I can't believe you guys weren't kicking my ass every day. 

I was the nightmare teen every parent dreads (or regrets) giving birth to.  I'm still a self-centered yutz, but thank God I've learned to hide it better over the years.  Probably why I'm still alive.   That you guys never killed me is a testament to the power of music.  Playing together (not that we played very well) in BWDF was probably the defining act of my life and had more to do with making me who I am today than any other single factor.  My attorneys will be in touch.  

Seriously, I don't think I could have picked better friends with whom to forge memories.  Some of that crazy s#%t we did back then ... I tell my kids about it - and more recently my grandkids - and I don't think they entirely believe me.  I can see their point.  Could there really have been a guy named Denny Buitendyk who hung off the 8th floor balcony of a Holiday Inn?  Did people really sneak into the drive-in, make daring nighttime escapes from concession stands, then camp out in a woods full of werewolves?   Would anyone, no matter how foolish, walk underneath the Ann Street Bridge?  In winter?!  

Come to think of it, it's a miracle any of us are still alive. 

Turns out, after all these years, that "Nyyerrry" was right after all.  I swear, Terry was the only one of us who had even the tiniest shred of common sense.   I plan on turning our adventures between 1971 and '74 or so into a "coming of age" novel when I retire.  (Don't worry, I won't mention the "Nosepick" thing in my book.)  

Speaking of the book, I'll need to know what "became" of everyone ... you know ... for the final "where are they now?" chapter.  I hear Bob's working as a custodian - I always assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps.  But what about you?  What are you doing these days?  A

nd have you heard anything from Terry?  The last time I saw him was in 1974, I think, before I first moved to Detroit.  Is he head of some electronics corporation, or running a dot-com somewhere?   I'm probably working for the guy right now and don't even know it.  (The company I work for is a monster, one that owns about half the newspapers in the country, I think.  I've never even met any of the "big bosses."  So one of 'em could be Terry, for all I know.)  

I hear you're still playing from time to time, too, as is Bob.  I've never really been able to give up the habit, either.  I've been working with The Guinness Brothers Band (gbrothers.com) for the past eight or nine years.  It's a good band with nice guys ... a very mellow gig.  I'm still probably the biggest jerk in the group, but not so bad that anyone has to "hate my face" on a regular basis.  

My kids (Aubreii, Jordan and step-son James) are all grown, my daughter with two kids of her own (Edison and Rosy).  My daughter designs Web sites and my oldest son is a product rep for General Motors.  Both of 'em make a lot more money than I do, but I try not to hate them for it, as they will one day soon be picking out my nursing home.  My step-son is still finishing high school, but he works every day after classes at his dad's dairy farm; a nice, responsible kid.  They all turned out great in spite of my lousy parenting skills.   I'm married to Wife Number Four, my final wife, dammit and I mean it this time!  We just celebrated our 12th anniversary this past summer.  She's really great ... she puts up with me, and that's saying a lot, even these days.  

To be honest, and considering what a wiener I've been throughout most of my misspent life, it's a miracle how well things ended up for me (knock on wood).  I have a wife I'm crazy about, a job I love, a nice house in a great little town, a comfortable life and kids who phone at least once a week.  I'm sure Karma is planning to kill me off early, just to balance the scales, but what are you gonna do.  So far, it's been a helluva ride and I can't complain.  

I would love to see you guys again sometime.  Maybe we could set up an anniversary dinner some night; maybe after the holiday rush is past.  Say ... January 9?  It's a Tuesday night, so we could get into Applebee's or someplace like that without waiting in line.  What do you think?  We're all getting older than dirt; if we don't get together soon, one of us is sure to meet the same fate as Poor Uncle Elmo (probably me, because of the Karma thing).   Anyway, lemme know if a dinner celebration is doable.  We could bring the wives and bore the hell out of them with stories of our wasted youth!  

Talk with you soon, Nose- uh ... Dale.