A Friendship Story

In The Big Chill, there's a scene where the group of friends is reflecting on their friendship. One of of them says, "It's no surprise that our friendship could survive that (referring to their youth) -- it's out here that it gets tough."

The four girls in this photo have survived our childhood friendship with each other for over 3 decades. And this weekend, we have set aside a few days for our girlfriend reunion. Deb, Jan and I have done this for eons -- some years more than others. For the first time, our friend Lynn will also join us. We lost contact with Lynn for a while and are now making up for lost time.

It's not fair to give them labels but I'm going to do it anyway.

Lynn is the funny one. As young girls, she was also the brave one. I never know what will come out of her mouth. Last night she told me she was so excited about this weekend, she felt like "a d**k on a date." Not quite the phrase I would have chosen but I'm equally excited.

Deb is the serene one. People might think she's shy or quiet but she's not. She's just smart enough to assess people and situations to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. Under the surface is the teenager I remember. We all revert to high school when we gather.

Jan wears her heart on her sleeve. She would've made a great Miss America -- her passions have always been children and animals. (Plus I"m pretty sure she wants world peace too.) She also holds the unenviable position of the first person I call for almost any crisis or disaster -- real or imagined.

We all have a little bit of crossover. We can all be funny but we're not quite as "out there" as Lynn. We all have a hesitant or shy side but I'm not sure we do it with Deb's studious style. We all try to be kind but we won't measure up to Jan. We shouldn't even try.

My oldies are a little paranoid. They have heard me talk of these reunions for years and they know no topic or question is off limits. They are convinced that we might discuss them a bit. Hmmm ...

So, I toast my golden friends as I count the days until I get to spend a little while in celebration of love and laughter.

Homecomings

My sister and I went through the Christmas decorations yesterday. No blood was shed. In fact, we didn't even have to arm wrestle. We were in unison on several items as we turned to my mother and said, "You have to keep this." I took a few things. Like I really need more decorations.

Then I started getting antsy. I wanted to shout, "It's time to go to the neighborhood party!" I did not want to miss a minute.

Everyone should have an occasional day that includes hours and hours of laugh-out-loud fun. I think I've filled my quota for the year. Even my mother stayed until the bitter end. She must have been enjoying our antics and I know she enjoyed the stories. I liked it best when she would say, "Sheri, do you remember so and so?" With complete disrespect, I said, "No Mom, I only went to grade school, middle school and high school with this person. Why don't you introduce us?"

Then the photos started circulating. The stories got a lot more interesting. (That's the great thing about this age --what are they going to do, ground us?)

The neighborhood is right behind a naval plant. Well, I don't know what they make there now but when I was growing up (Cold War Years,) it was all very hush-hush. As far as I know, none of us are radioactive. The military underestimated a group of kids who ran along that strip. As we sat behind my friends' homes last night, the fence (with barbed wire) is still there. Many of us said, "I've scaled that fence." One said, "I could still do it." Thankfully, level heads prevailed.

We danced. We sang. We ate well. We told stories that no parent should ever have to hear.

I could write forever about this. Trust me, there's more to come. But I have another homecoming. The husband comes back today. He missed a great party.

Waterbeds

Remember when everyone thought water beds were the ultimate in cool and sexy? I've never owned one but I have slept on one. It wasn't sexy. I was sleeping with my mother on a visit to see her sister.

I think it was 1983 or 1984.

My mother and I flew to Phoenix. My mother carried a sheet cake on her lap and got a little irritated when the passenger in front of her threw his seat back and almost smooshed the cake. The airline food union was on strike (this is when you actually expected a meal on a flight) so to compensate, we got free drinks. Yahoo!

The bed my mother and I slept in was not the wave less kind. (I'm not even sure they had been invented yet.) I remember each of us rolling over, trying to get comfortable and sending a tidal wave across the bed. It's hard to go back to sleep when the other person is screeching uncontrollably.

That Thick Head of Yours

Last night, the husband and I ended up on a triple date. It was great fun. Witty conversation, plus catching up on their oldies and our oldies, all of our children and their grandchildren. New jokes were shared and old ones were repeated. They're still funny. People interrupt each other and then feel free to say, "Well, I didn't think you were ever going to stop talking."

I've noticed that several of my friends are starting to refer to their husbands as "Big Daddy."

Well, in the spirit of the moment -- we were talking about childhood things -- I told a story about my mother thumping me on the head. I was a stubborn and saucy child. Occasionally, I could push her to the limits. In that rare instance, she would thump my head and say, "When am I going to get through that thick head of yours?" Not abuse; just trying to get my attention.

Big Daddy was over the moon with this story. He belly laughed. Then, he spent the entire evening pretending to thump me on the head and repeat the mantra. Oh, what have I done? I experienced it in my childhood and now I will face it again at my age. Probably for the rest of my life. Like a dog with a bone, the husband will not let this one go. When we went to bed last night, I tried to grab the remote. He thumped my head and said, "When am I going to get through that thick head of yours?"

I don't think the oldies thump each other on the head but I should recommend it. I might take the cue (because it does get your attention) and start doing my own thumping. Imagine the business meeting... I've made a presentation and everyone is pondering. I could walk around the room, thumping people on their heads and say, "When am I going to get through that thick head of yours?"

I'll either get a lot of new business or I'll go to prison.