I never seem to find the time to talk to all the people I want to. Conversations are too short, memories too prevalent, questions and interests arise and disappear too quickly. I see a face across the room, someone I want to reconnect with, but don't quite get around to. It's as though, like Brigadoon, the mist will swirl in much too early, leaving dangling conversations and stories without punch lines, an intended handshake or hug unfulfilled.
Fortunately we don't have to wait one hundred years for the next opportunity. As long as Jerry Sexton has an extra supply of name tags and the time to pull it together, the village will return much sooner.