My Take on the 4 O'clock Club

Yesterday I missed the monthly meeting of what has come to be known as the "4 O'clock Club." We're a group, currently, of up to five men who gather on the second Tuesday of every month to share a few laughs and a few stories, drink a little beer and enjoy each other's company. When something comes up to prevent my attending—be that something work or just stupid forgetfulness—my life is a little lonelier for having missed the opportunity to spend time with these friends.

Honestly, I'm not much of a beer drinker. I like a good beer on such occasions, but my favorite beer-drinking situation is at mealtime. A beer is great with most any lunch or supper. I also like to drink one at the end of a long day or period of physical labor, even though I rarely do so.

No, the beer I can take or leave. It's the friendship around that table—indoors or outdoors—that matters most to me, and I think that it's ultimately the same for the other men . . . except for Dennis, for whom friendship and beer are probably more balanced in importance. Just kidding. Dennis is the beer enthusiast among us, but I think we'd all agree he's a central figure in this circle of friends.

So, yesterday, as three of my friends were sharing themselves and a pitcher or two of beer, I was sitting in a classroom and listening to an honors student talk about the Appalachian culture of coal and the music that it has inspired. It was an interesting talk, but I had to leave in the middle to accompany my son to his guitar lesson. (By the way, he has his driver license now, and so in coming months is likely to drop me off at the Acoustic Coffeehouse on those second Tuesdays and make the trip to the Boones Creek music shop on his own.)

A make-up session is in the works for the 17th, and I'm looking forward to it. A possible Christmas meeting is in the works for the 21st, and I'm looking forward to that as well. And then, of course, comes the 8th of January and another year's worth of second Tuesdays.

I wish this kind of thing for everybody. I know men whose lives and wives won't allow this, whose image they create for themselves or whose image is created for them won't allow this. That's sad—or, in today's (or some recent) vernacular, "Sucks for them."

I have one friend in particular that I think of often. He's gone, disappeared from here. I don't know if where he is he has any true friends—or if he's ever had any true friends. Not that his friends aren't true or that he is false, but he never has, by his own confession and probably for many reasons, been able to form deep friendships. And that's sad—

For Christmas, if I could, I would give him—and all of my friends—a 4 O'clock Club.