Sometimes you hear news which you know really doesn’t affect the world too much, but makes you stop and pause because of how it affects your world.

That’s how I felt a couple of weeks ago when one of my oldest friends in the world posted that the place where we worked at teenagers had closed its doors for good.

From the fall of 1984 to early 1992 (off and on, of course), I worked at Oasis, one of the permanent kiosks in Baltimore’s Harborplace. We sold fresh lemonade, Italian ice and plenty of other drinks, making the shop pretty popular on hot summer days.

One of my neighbors – the father of Paul, the guy who told me about the closing – started the business with a friend of his. That connection helped me get the job when I turned 16. I already knew most of the crew either from growing up or because my sister worked there so it made sense.

Paul’s family eventually got out of the ownership side, but I had plunged full long into the Oasis culture by then. I worked there year-round during high school, during all my breaks in college and even picked up a bunch of hours there when I found myself out of a job a year after college.

In fact, Oasis was my last job before I moved to Hanover to work for the paper more than 20 years ago. It’s kind of a bridge between my time in Baltimore and the life I have now.

   Those days provided me with a lot of good memories. We had some amazingly busy stretches when you had trouble conceiving how many people had lined up for a cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade. But, like all jobs, those times helped build the relationships, some of which continue today.

I learned how to calculate the price of an order – complete with sales tax – in my head because of my time at the Oasis. I helped develop my sense of humor as I tried to impress co-workers and customers with one-liners. I even learned to flip a cup of lemonade attached to a shaker into the air, a la Tom Cruise in “Cocktail.”

This was the 1980s after all. I won’t even get into some of the fashion choices we made. Let’s just say my bright green corduroy OP shorts worked perfectly with our yellow work t-shirts.

I guess it’s appropriate that a place which meant so much to me in my formative years would shut its doors as I reached peak sentimentality in my mid-40s. I do keep in touch with some people I worked with, but I don’t with many, many others. That made me reflect some.

But mainly I thought about how I would tell people I had to work over spring break or put in long hours over the summer because I needed the money when, in reality, I also did it because I had so much fun working at Oasis.

Now it’s all in the past. All I have left are some inside jokes, a hat or two buried somewhere in the attic and the knowledge that half a lemon, two tablespoons or sugar, water and ice can do a lot more than quench your thirst.