At the Memorial Day Picnic, the same old people told the same old stories. They lauded the successes of a colleague and kvetched about the jobs they were lucky to still have.

A young man with a chronic illness made his brief, ghostlike appearance, and a young woman, back from her adventures recounted her stories to a rapt audience.

They watched her with the same intensity as the watched the latest thriller at the movie theatre and then talked about what show they wanted to see next.

Feeling empty, she walked to a distant table where a lone greybeard quietly ate his pasta. He had starred in a similar show years earlier and some had thought his travels drove him mad.

On the way home, he thought of all those heroes who had returned to share their bounty, only to be misunderstood. He hailed them in his heart as part of his confederacy of crazy uncles.

Later, passing him on the road home was a Jeep of four disconnected youth telling jokes and rapidly heading nowhere.