I apologize to my long-time readers who will recognize this and several other posts from the next two weeks. Not all of my posts from the next two weeks will be repeats, but at this time of year I always pay tribute to my friends. This series of posts will undoubtedly be funnier to my friends and I than any of you, but some bits of my annual pilgrimage may be worth a chuckle for everyone else.
First, let me explain who The Golden Boys are. In our minds we are The Golden Boys. At least that’s how we think of ourselves. Not because of any special qualities we have, or because of any of us has led a particularly charmed life. We are four fairly normal, middle-aged men who have been together our entire lives. We can’t remember a time when we didn’t know each other. We want to think we’re special. Like all men our age, we still believe that if we had the time to train we could become professional athletes or crime fighting super-heroes. Despite a sprinkle of gray hair beginning to show or abs that aren’t as defined as we’d like to imagine, we still fantasize that we can turn the ladies heads. We’d dubbed ourselves The Golden Boys when we were just barely past puberty. The name “The Golden Boys” was borrowed from a skit on a show called Fridays back around 1980. In the skit, there were two guys with gaudy blonde wigs and some sort of professional wrestler costumes accented by a gold bikini. The motto of The Golden Boys that was uttered by the pair in unison at the conclusion of each skit was, “We’re young. We’re tough, and we’re good looking!” So needless to say, my friends and I adopted the name Golden Boys for ourselves and we began to shout the motto whenever we were together. We still do when we’re drinking.
My “Golden Boys” include Tom, Gooby, Chuck, and myself. We all grew up on the same street in four consecutive houses. We have known each other since we were in diapers and will no doubt know each other when we’re in diapers again. Once a year for the past 15 years or so we all try to make it back to our hometown for a weekend of drunken revelry and pining for the glory days of our youth. The weekend is typically one of the highlights of my year. This year I’m not sure if the weekend will happen, but I still want to tip my cap to my future pallbearers. Over the next two weeks I’ll introduce you to each of the Golden Boys, except Tom, who has asked to be left out, and regale you with tales of our past indiscretions. After reading some of my stories last year a fellow blogger commented that we were “like the kids from Stand By Me, but on crack.” I guess that’s as good a description as any. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I do. By the way, we have a secret handshake that we still use.