sunday brunch (lyn)

Today I’m having brunch with Jean and Glen and their very-hip 24-year-old daughter who’s in law school outside the city.   We last got together exactly a year ago.   They live in Bangor Maine, but make it to New York at least once a year.  

Jean and I met in 1972 when we were both college juniors and lived in the same dorm.  It was backgammon that sealed our friendship.  We were introduced to the game by a Turkish friend of ours, and soon became addicts.  We used to keep an ongoing scorecard, posted on Jean’s dorm wall, and over two years of playing almost daily, ended up about tied in number of wins.

After Tufts, Jean returned to Maine, went to law school, met and married Glen, had two great kids, and now owns her own investment company.  She is a fabulous skier, an accomplished sailor, a creative writer, a painter, and the consummate professional.  Jean’s conservative appearance belies her true character.  She is liberal, open-minded, and embraces beliefs that many would shun.  A few years ago, she hired a feng shui consultant to help improve the negative energies in her immediate environment.  And it took a paranormal expert to rid her home of a young girl ghost who’d been living there for centuries.   

We decide to have brunch together.  My dreams of blueberry pancakes or eggs benedict are replaced with the image of an unspectacular egg white omelet.  Something I’ve never before eaten.

We end up going to a little restaurant near Grand Central.  I order a 3-egg white omelet filled with smoked salmon, onions, and tomatoes along with coffee.  I don’t know if it’s because I’m really hungry, because the company is so good, or because an all white omelet, if filled with the right ingredients, can be truly satisfying.  Whatever the reason, the omelet is delicious.

One of the many topics we discuss over brunch is Alexander's junior year, and how tough it is.  There's his challenging curriculum;  the pressure of thinking about, and visiting, colleges;  SAT prep for the March 13th test;  ACT prep for the test on April 10; extra-curricular activities; social pressures;  community service;  thinking about what he can do this summer that is meaningful;  two AP exams in May; preparing for the subject SAT tests in June;   and finals at the same time. "I feel so sorry for him," I say, to which Jean quips, "This is just the beginning of feeling bad."  I'm hoping my wise friend is wrong.