Connections lost, connections re-affirmed.

 An old TV show -- I don't even recall in which decade it aired -- was titled 'That Was The Week That Was.' The less formal name was TW3... for obvious reasons. For me, this was the week that was.

This week I reconnected with Mark. For almost two decades he was a brother-in-law. For part of that time he was a co-worker. For all those years, he was a friend. A dozen years younger than I, he was at times almost like a son.

The most-distant point of this motorcycle trip was to be the Willamette Valley, my home for almost all of the '80s and still home to Mark, his wonderful wife Sue and his delightful mother-in-law Mary.

At their invitation, I spent Saturday night with that trio in their home, a great old farmhouse occupied by Sue and several generations of Heaters who preceded her.

Mark and Sue now operate an event center -- great job guys -- and I was privy to a wedding party in that charming facility.

I also re-connected -- at least, I felt so -- with Mark. A couple of hours with just us for the first time in probably 3 decades. I think it's safe to say that, helped along by generous portions of wine, we "emoted."

Yes, I love Mark.

Sunday, I went for lunch in Stayton with one of my dearest friends. In the '80s we skied,  hiked, scuba-ed, boated, rafted. He "taught" me to ski on snow and challenged me on water skis. I made fun of his personal style (I think that's a generous term) and his determination to never own anything new. Ed was a runner but only in his morning exercise did he move quickly. Fairly described, Ed was deliberate... and endearing

He and I and his caring wife Linda arrived at the restaurant; Ed deliberately exited the car from the passenger side. I offered a wisecrack, Ed laughed and I hugged him.

"You seem like a really nice guy, but I have no clue who you are."

In the years since I last saw him, Ed has developed dementia. With Linda's patient help, I walked Ed back through our adventures. Ed is emotional, common, I suppose, in folks with issues like Ed's, and teared up at any compliment.

I'm not convinced Ed ever really knew who I was. Leaving the restaurant, I hugged him for probably the last time. "We had some fun, didn't we?" I agreed and touched his hand. "See ya," I said, though that's highly unlikely.

My connection with Ed now only goes one direction. I miss Ed.

And, yes, I love Ed.