What is a Friend?

June 21 marks a very special day – it is the birthday of my best friend. Each year, we get each other something special – not necessarily something expensive but something that will hold meaning for the other one. However, this year, I decided to do something different. I figure we’re pretty much “gifted out” seeing as we’re now past the 50 mark, and so this year, I’m giving her the ultimate gift – an expression of what her friendship has meant to me over the years.

We’ve known each other since we were three. We attended Humpty Dumpty Nursery School (no preschools then – it was nursery school). Oh, how we loved that place and what a great world in which to meet what would one day become one of the most special people in your life; your very first friend. Back then, we didn’t have playgroups or a “moms day out”, since most of our moms were stay-at-home moms anyhow. No, we had to meet and play at nursery school. And Humpty Dumpty was no ordinary place. Just down the street from all our homes in the west end of town, it was a place for learning and first play experiences. I even still remember the layout of that little white house and picket fence turned nursery school along with the cheerfulness of Miss Kay and Miss Gladys. It was a happy place and in the eyes of a three-year-old, sheer heaven. Of course, pre-school doesn’t last forever – a year, maybe two tops. So, we moved on to kindergarten.

Again, I was blessed to have my best friend in my class. Oh the joys of kindergarten with Mrs. O’Malley at the helm. She nurtured us and taught us the ABC’s. More importantly, we learned more about playing and deepening our first friendships. We laughed and played and began the first of many play dates, overnights and birthday parties.

In school, we sang everything together from “There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza” to “Bosom Buddies”; of course, each taking turns and singing our appropriate parts. My friend and I went to school together all the way through 8th grade and into high school. Oh sure, friends changed here and there; interests and dynamics. But isn’t that what growing up is all about?

In college, she went to Boston while I stayed in Illinois. I must confess, we lost touch for a few years. However, once we were both married and had children, we picked up where we left off. Because, that’s what best friends can do - you don’t miss a beat! We’ve not parted ways since then except for the occasional move, which I must confess has been due to my family obligations. If it were up to either of us, we would never say “good-bye”.

Still, we keep in touch and see each other once a year. Technology has made it all the more possible for us to write or talk on the phone; but she still writes a “real” letter and sends me articles and prayers through the mail. I love her even more for that – how she thinks of me each time she finds something relevant to my life, puts it in an envelope then goes to the post office to mail it. Doesn’t sound like much; yet, I know she’s incredibly busy and she still thinks of me all the time. I have her prayers posted throughout my classroom and her recipes saved. I pour over all the articles, savoring every word, that she has so lovingly cut out and sent to me. Even my own children won’t eat anyone else’s banana chocolate chip bread except the one I make from Aunt Cathy's “special” recipe.  And if she makes it herself, it's even better!  

Time marches on, and we even ended up in the same profession. We’re both elementary school teachers now. We commiserate every time we see each other. We talk about our students, our colleagues and administrators -- and even the teachers we had growing up– the good and the bad – hoping that we don’t fall into the category of the latter. We also laugh – a LOT! We were both avid readers growing up and who else could be a Midwestern girl’s idol but the late Erma Bombeck?   So, adapting that same quirky sense of humor as Erma, we find ourselves doing a little one up-man-ship to see who can make the other laugh harder when we’re together (or at least I know, I do!) Hearing her laugh makes me know she appreciates and values my friendship. And besides, where else but Panera Bread, can we savor the coffee and our time together while laughing non-stop for hours on end while getting free coffee refills?  Somehow, we can never seem to get enough of the other’s company when I’m in town.

We’ve been through everything together – boyfriends, marriages, children, divorces, deaths – good times and bad. A few years ago, we got together and sort of just went through the list of comparisons in our family histories – births, deaths, marriages and religious preferences between our parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Although, they are too many to list,  we decided there were so many similarities that we are about as close to being sisters as one can possibly be, without actually having a blood relation in there somewhere. No, it just seems we are kindred spirits, brought together by God Himself.

We know where all the skeletons are buried and there they’ll stay. We’ve laughed together, cried together, and shared our most intimate secrets. In short, we have always been there for each other. We still have play dates – yes, the logistics have changed over the years but our love and affection for one another has not. So Cathy, “Here’s to you on your birthday! You’ve made my life better and certainly, a lot more fun! If we live to be 100, you will always have a place in my heart.

Have a VERY Happy Birthday, and know that even though I'm not there today,  I'm with you in spirit!  Love you, girlfriend!"

Touchstones

It's been a long time since I've posted. More than 2 years. I'm changing -- been doing some soul-searching. You see, after my mother passed away, so did a part of me. My mother was my "touchstone". If you don't know what I mean, watch "Terms of Endearment" - right before Emma dies. Better yet, I'll save you some time and tears. A touchstone refers to a person who knows everything about you...where you came from, your history, and memories you've shared. It's someone who knows everything about you. I used to be funny and have lots to say on a variety of different topics. If you don't believe me, just ask my family and friends. I was incredibly entertaining! Somehow, I've become quieter and introspective. But there are two people who can bring out the "old" me...my best friend and my son.

My best friend has been there for the past 48 years. You want to talk history -- she knows where all the skeletons are -- starting from pre-school (if you can have skeletons in pre-school...) We might not see each other for a year at a time but when we get together, we sit for hours in the coffee shop and laugh non-stop. It's like a one-upmanship (if there is such a word); and frankly, I couldn't tell you who does a better job. I just know, we are both at our comedic best. Whether it's fashion, TV shows or family -- no matter how sacred it is (excluding religion which is definitely a no-no), it's up for grabs.

As for my son, he's definitely shares his grandmother's sense of humor! And boy, do we let the banter fly. We're both ADHD (undiagnosed) but you can tell by our disjointed conversations that it's there -- and the apple certainly doesn't fall far from the tree! Our talk seems to happen in parallel universes, and yet, we both know what the other is saying. He makes me laugh until I cry. (Frankly, this can be a bit disconcerting, particularly when I'm driving). This, from the boy who used to just make me cry!!

We live in a different part of the world now (okay -- we're still in the U.S. but it looks and feels like a different part of the world) and social mores just aren't his thing -- never have been. Even though we live in a society that everyone marches to the beat of a different drummer, his beat is just beyond anything I've experienced. If I said he was Bohemian, that would be an understatement.

He's not afraid to make social commentary and does so with such a bite that you'd swear he was Methuselah. To quote him, "everyone wants to conform to non-conformity". Who comes up with this stuff? More power to him -- I think it's brilliant! He reminds me of me (well, with much more ferocity, but I attribute that to the fact that he's a male) -- and if he wanted to, I swear he could do stand-up. His rants (and they are definitely rants) are crazy, fun, spontaneous and most of all, remind me of my mother. She would be proud of his outspokenness and quick wit! My mom used to say "when you're dead, you're dead"...I disagree -- you may be gone physically but you continue to live on through the part that you touched...that touchstone that never dies. My mother may have passed but she lives on in my son. And although she's been dead for nearly four years, I can still hear her voice as she looks down from Heaven and says, "That's my boy!"

Midlife Crisis

There's a myriad of controversy over whether or not men go through a mid-life crisis. I'm here to settle the debate once and for all. The answer would be a resounding YES!!!

You may ask, "How do you know this?" "Have you been doing research?" "Are you a sociologist who is working on her Ph.D?" No, no, and no! However, I am married to a fifty-year-old. Enough said.

Now, some of you may believe that the mid-life crisis begins with the losing weight, adding hair where there may not be any, buying new clothes, watches and/or cars. I am here to tell you, it's not so obvious. It's subtle. Sort of like that 40th birthday that sneaks up on you. You still feel like an 18-year-old on the inside but on the outside, you are absolutely falling apart; unless you have money and a good plastic surgeon, that is.

My husband's mid-life crisis began at say age 43. All of a sudden, he was crabby. This was something new. He was always an easy-going sort of fella. Then one day -- I think it was his birthday -- BOOM! Crabby! All of a sudden, I started thinking, am I spending the rest of my life with a crabby old man??? I always thought that was a stereotype. Who knew it wasn't? I didn't sign up for this! For better or worse? Who the hell came up with that line? It should be "for better". Period. End of story. But no -- some moron decided we should stay with someone even if something unforeseen happens -- like crabbiness!

OK, well, I could MAYBE deal with this crabby new husband....perhaps I was crabby and he was just reacting to me? A possibility? Doubtful but I was willing to give it some consideration.

Then, one day, he up and decides to go to Iraq. For a whole year. Well, not that I liked it, approved of it, or even wanted him to go, (though I would be rid of this crab for a year) -- I agreed. Not that I had a choice because he WAS going. I did manage to convince myself it was altruistic, patriotic and all that other good stuff. And it paid well (which made the sacrifice all the easier to swallow). So, I said, "Bon Voyage -- and DUCK!"

A year goes by -- we see him once -- then I get a phone call. He's signed another contract. Then another year goes by and he signs another contract. Somehow, I'm seeing a pattern here. Let's see....go to work, come home to a clean house, 3 squares a day, and no kids or nagging wife. Hmmmmm, I can see the appeal. Meanwhile, during his vacations with us, he is looking for a Corvette. Oh, and he's dropped 60 lbs. Do I sense a crisis??? There's one brewing alright but not the kind he thinks -- it's me, ready to lose my freakin' mind because I'm on duty 24/7 with two teenagers in the house.

Well, fast forward a year and a half later. We are now on our 4th year of separation. He has managed to take a job in Las Vegas -- you want to talk Paradise for a single guy -- that would be it. The only thing is he's working his ass off as an insurance agent in 110 degree heat. Ahhhh, sweet revenge.

He is planning a comeback at my behest, so I guess there is hope after all. We've been married 27 years. Oh and this year's anniversary was the best ever -- I spent it in the ER getting my ear sewed back together after our dog bit most of it off! I have to say, it was one of our more memorable ones even though he wasn't here. I sent him a text message with a picture of the bloody ear saying "Happy Anniversary"!

My husband's 50 now -- I'm 49...we're down to one teenager in the house. I'm hoping we can manage to live together. Four years is a damned long time to be separated. Perhaps the crabby is gone -- maybe he got it all out of his system. He's fat again and we don't own a Corvette, so perhaps there's hope. At least, he didn't get a tattoo or some bizarre piercing-- that's forever.

Oh, one last thing...I'm seriously menopausal -- What's that expression again? Oh yeah, turn about is fair play.

Getting in Shape

My youngest daughter is here visiting from Texas. At the behest of me, she is helping me to get into shape. You see, my 30th class reunion is coming up. There's something about class reunions that will make you do things that you wouldn't ordinarily do; such as lose 20 lbs in a month or in my case, actually engage in physical activity in the hopes of losing a dress size or two.

I can count the number of times when I was actually physically fit. In 8th grade, when I was a bona fide cheerleader (my kids still chuckle at the thought of me doing a back walkover or handspring) and when I was 30 years old and had just had my third child. Something about being 30 sparked me into action. Even as a child, running was just something I never enjoyed doing. Must've been in the genes or something.

However, I suppose showing up at my reunion and declaring that I still have baby weight could potentially backfire. After all, I AM old enough to be a grandma (which I will be by then), and even if people were to believe I had a small child at home, they would certainly declare me legally insane. So, no, I cannot show up with this extra poundage. I'm bound to be found out with that scurrilous excuse. Granted, it's true that my weight ballooned during my 4th pregnancy. That and the fact that I've eaten about a million gallons of junk food since the day my youngest was born!!

Anyhow, the thing with my daughter is, she refuses to understand that I'm old and decrepit. For some reason, she thinks I can move like a 20 year old. I got news for her -- I ain't no 20 year old!! And to make matters worse, she actually MAKES me move until I sweat and huff and puff. It sucks, really! She calls my bluff on everything. Even the chest pains I felt today -- NOTHING! I'm still alive so I presume those were really just stitches in my side, but the fact is...they COULD'VE been real! As we passed a park bench she said, "Don't even think about it!" This, from the gird of my loins!

The other day as we were walking endlessly on the track at our exercise hub I commented that the reason I hate to exercise is that I hate to sweat and I hate to feel short of breath. Her response? That, mother, is called EXERCISING! I knew there was a reason I hated it! So, tomorrow, as I'm huffing, puffing, AND sweating...think of me! All I can say is I better look "hot" at my reunion -- and not because it's a 90-something degree day in August!!

Top 10 Airline Disasters

It's been awhile since I posted, but I decided it's time to get back in the saddle. And "Whoa, Nellie" what a tale I have to tell!!

This past week-end we went to visit my daughter in Texas. Now, I am not one who enjoys flying. In fact, I have to be heavily sedated. Pass the Xanax and Dramamine, please! But even heavy sedation cannot negate the fact that this week-end's flights land on my Top 10 list for some of the worst flights I have taken.

Now, this carrier (who shall remain nameless for fear of lawsuits) is the one that basically herds its cattle, I mean passengers, like cattle. You are given a boarding pass with a letter determining what number you are in line. However, there are NO ASSIGNED SEATS! Imagine that -- a free-for-all once you get inside the plane. What genius came up with that idea??? Perhaps 100 years ago that was a good idea -- when they actually were one of the cheapest carriers around. But those days are over, baby! They now have fares that are as high as the best of them.

Never mind my husband didn't print off boarding passes the day before and FIVE of us (you got it -- FIVE) had to vie for seats throughout the plane, including our young son. Now, here's a little known fact. If you sit near the emergency exit -- you have to help EVACUATE the plane in an emergency. To help the all of TWO airline personnel. That's right folks -- sit near the exit and you get to exit LAST! After helping the other 179 passengers to safety. " Gee, I'll be GLAD to help. Let me grab a fire extinguisher while I'm at it and put out the flames on my body!!!"

Do you see where I'm going with this? ZERO customer service. Oh, and let's not forget that as we were coming home, we were delayed by over an hour because they were looking for 5 volunteers to fly stand-by since they overbooked! Now if this wasn't insult to injury, the airline hosts/hostesses (whatever the vernacular is today), thought it a lark to make fun and blame the PASSENGERS for the delays. "Tic, tic, tic -- that's the clock saying it's time to find a seat because you're causing us to be late." Or as they told an 80-something passenger, "Well, you didn't listen -- that's just going to take us that much longer to board our passengers." The list goes on. So, speaking of lists, I'm going to label my top 10 for suck-y flights.

1. Flight from St. Louis to NY circa 1982. This is what set off my whole fear of flying. While sitting next to an emergency exit, I noticed a huge gap around the door. It was not sealed tightlyand I sat for two hours as I watched the sky pass by my feet.

2. Flight from St. Louis to Kuwait circa 1996. Not only was my daughter puking all the way across the Atlantic but somebody actually died on the plane. Resuscitation took place from Jordan to Kuwait, since this was a member of the royal family. Oh, and let's not forget that we were held up in Chicago for 3 days before we could actually find a connection since we lost ours due to a storm.

3. Any flight from Kuwait to St. Louis with 4 small children on board. My only saving grace is and was XANAX!! That, and the fact, the kids were really stuck and couldn't run away anywhere. I'm sure the airline hosts/hostesses hated me for letting them run loose on the plane while I napped.

4. Flight from St. Louis to London. This was a direct flight circa 1994. I was pregnant and told not to carry luggage or anything heavy as I had gotten stuck in St. Louis over Christmas due to pregnancy complications. I was travelling with a 3 year old at the time who was newly potty trained. I asked a counter person for help with my carry-on bags, explaining the situation. He took me to the door of the plane, dropped my bags and said "Now, you're on your own". What an ass! A kindly passenger behind me who saw the whole thing carried my bags in. The hostesses who were obviously menopausal, judging by their spreading middles and gray hair, yelled at passengers who took their shoes off and walked around the plane, saying they could get broken glass in their feet. Oh, and I was yelled at for taking my three year old to the potty, since there was turbulence. It was up to me if I wanted to break our necks. I took my chances. Better a broken neck than pissy pants. By the way, that was the now defunct TWA. Is it a wonder they went bankrupt?

5. Last week-end's trip.

Ok, so I'm five short of the top 10 list, but in my own defense, I stopped flying between 1982 and 1993 due to what I refer to as the "Flight from Hell".

So folks, if you're planning a trip anytime soon -- take it from me. Fly a carrier that actually will assign seats and offers pretzels instead of peanuts. Or even better -- DRIVE!

Ode to Mom 1927-2007

My mom died December 21. It's hard to write that and even harder to imagine it's true. But it is. She fought the good fight. She spent her last three weeks of life in the hospital. Although I think she would have preferred to have been home, that was just not possible . She would have had to ask for hospice. She did not want that. After all, hospice is for people who are dying. To have been on hospice would have meant having to admit that final truth.

My mom was a brave woman. She fought as long and as hard as she could. At the end, her 90-something pound body just could fight no more. It was sad to watch the decline of a woman who was so witty and bright. As we go through the pictures of her over the years, it is hard to imagine a woman so full of life and vitality is gone.

Her words still come back to me as I silently think about calling her about this or that. "Mom, I'm sick -- should I go to school?" "Stay home and rest." "But I feel guilty!" "Don't feel guilty -- get better." "I feel like I'm dying!" "You're not dying, you're just neurotic like your mother!" And on it goes...

I don't think my mom suffered like most people with cancer do. She seemed comfortable until the end. God was merciful to her in that way. The strongest pain medicine she ever took was a Darvocet N-100 and it relieved what little pain she had. I thank God for that!

In the end, she died with her loved ones surrounding her. Her room was very quiet and we all just sat and talked with her until she passed into the next life. When I entered her room and saw her labored breathing, I whispered in her ear, "Tonight, you'll be dancing with the angels, Mama!" I was right.

Last night, I had a dream she visited me. She thanked me for helping her spiritually and told me it (Heaven) was all I said it would be. I asked her if she was with her friends, and she said, "No, I will see them in a few days." One last visit and a final good-bye.

Whenever I feel sad, I think back to her illness and all the challenges she faced. She never let anyone know how she really felt. I'm sure she felt scared, and lonely, and missing us before she even left this earth. And I'm sure she felt sick. The day she was admitted to the hospital, as she laid in the emergency room, she looked at me and said, "I'm not going to be here much longer." I told her, "Don't say that, you don't know..." She pointed at her heart and said, "I know." She did know.

I wish this blog were funny or silly or even somewhat poetic. It's not but it's from the heart. Those other words will come later. So as I dry my tears on my sleeve, and write this final "good-bye" know that you were loved, Mom! And that we'll miss you forever....

Hubby's homecoming

Due to my mom's illness, my blog has been on hold. However, things are getting back to normal, so it's time to get back to work.

Where to start? Hubby is home after an eight month absence. Too long. When husbands and wives are apart that long, you have to re-acclimate to everything. For instance, who's in charge? You've both been bosses of yourself and the world around you for so long. Now, you come back together and each wants to continue to be the boss. AND to complicate matters, the kids pick up on this VERY quickly and use it against you. It's tough.

As if that's not enough, then there's the snoring. I've had blissful rest for a full eight months and here comes a locomotive roaring through the bedroom. Do I kick him out now? Would that be considered rude to ask him to sleep in a spare room? Not sure what the etiquette is on that one.

Oh, and let's not forget the leaving a sliced tomato on a newly cleaned countertop, oozing seeds and juice everywhere. Hmmmm, funny how I had forgotten that annoying little habit. It's almost as bad as leaving cheese wrappers (as in Kraft singles) everywhere.

I am glad he's home, though. At least, when I say I haven't been able to save money he can see where it is actually going...like for inflated grocery and gas prices. He picked up a little tiny coffee creamer today that was $3.66! No way!! I picked up the non-name brand and said, you get this one,which was $2.50 less. He, of course, said it's only $2.50. Whereas my response was, yes, on ONE ITEM only!! He didn't want Chex Trail Mix but wanted to make his own out of Chex Sweet & Salty and then add $10.00 worth of nuts and a sprinkle of M & M's. Tell me, does that NOT sound like Chex Trail Mix?!! But, he likes it his way.

OK, I admit it...I'm willing to put up with his little nuances and annoyances if he will just say "uncle" and stay. All of this depends on his finding work. Tough at middle age. So, I will hold my breath and say a prayer because

1. The kids are REALLY happy he's here.
2. I'm happy he's here. (altho' we still have to determine who's in charge ...ahem...ME!!)
3. The dog's SUPER happy he's here (he got eggs and potatoes AND meatloaf today)

and the best reason of all.....


4. All of us sleep a little more soundly and easily since he got home.