Sandwich boards and old friends

I seldom looked at my sandwich boards without thinking of a couple I met in Germany, when the man and my ex were in the 7th Army Band. They were both trumpet players.

I became friends with his wife and we would often to do things together on Mondays, her day off. Even with a limited budget the day might end with a pastry and a hot chocolate somewhere near the Schloss in downtown Stuttgart.

She was then a hairdresser and is the reason my hair is red. She was the first one to dye it. I've had other colors over the years, but I always go back to her original recommendation.

Both couples had Triumphs, his was a TR3 then 4 and ours was a Spitfire.

We travelled together, played a silly, silly card game called Mau Mau, developing our own rules men against the women. She and I had a system of cheating that the men never figured out. Cheating was part of the game and she and I were so, so, so good at it.

Once back in the States we met up in DC and Florida before my divorce and after my divorce in Boston and Colorado.

My daughter potty trained herself on a visit to them when she saw what their younger daughter did.

I'd stay with them when I had business in the area catching up and creating new memories.

We went camping.

We even met up in Germany in the early 90s when her father died . Much to out surprised, we were allowed back on the post in Möhringen, a truly nostalgia moment.

Then they disappeared. Periodically I'd do an internet search but they have a common name. No luck.

His wife told him, "Find Donna." Using the Internet he tried my daughter through her assignment at Tufts and my publisher, but with no luck. Facebook worked.

Yesterday there was a message from him. I was sure it was him because I remembered the birthday shown on his FB page, which is also his wife's birthday. I messaged back. Facebook morphed into email.

He sent photos from our trip to Italy in the early 60s.

He sent his phone number. I picked up the phone.

I mentioned the photo. He mentioned my toes, a joke from long, long ago. Excuse the cliché but it was like we'd spoken last week.

We'll meet up in April in Nice.

And why do sandwich boards keep them in my memory? I saw my first set in their kitchen on a visit long, long ago, and bought them on a trip to Germany.

I am so glad they are back in my life.