a midsummer afternoon never to come again

Jerry sent this photo to our email group a while back. It is probably from the early 90's. It was likely when the schools were closed and we hung out in either pandey's or one of the other guys' homes. We probably ventured out in the afternoon and someone likely thought a photo was warranted. We are all sitting in the middle of what was called "approach road" that led to our homes in the sprawling vizag steel plant.. reddy, pandey, nanda, myself, kutri, jerry, and pk. There should have been others, but I don't remember why they weren't there. 

We barely talk to each other anymore, let alone meet.

I once asked my dad when I was old enough to know to ask such questions, but young enough for him to talk to me about such things - if he ever had close friends like I had. He was on the our bed playing solitaire like he did most of the time when he was home - the two other things he did was listen to the radio or read the newspaper. He said he did have very close friends. I asked why we didn't know any of them, why he didn't keep in touch.  He thought for a few moments, almost pausing his game but not quite; he said, well we all just drifted apart -- everyone got married and started living their own lives.

It was unfathomable to me at that time.

Now, I get it.

Milestones

1991

1997

1998

1999

2000

2002

2004

2006

2007

2008

What was that I wanted to write?

The question is, do we loose our ability to express ourselves with age? I can vividly remember sitting for hours on end and writing about something or the other and the words would just flow out of my mind on to the paper - or the keyboard. Lately though the words keep swirling in a jumble in my head, I know they collectively mean something, but it is next to impossible to discipline them into a structure that can be laid out on a page.

I heard somewhere the other day that the human brain peaks at 27. The power of expression I am afraid appears to reach a crescendo somewhere around there too.