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.

Time to Cowgirl Up

The girlfriends are headed to Zona today for our annual trip to Big Sal's gorgeous Western home. A couple of us can't go this year but we're there in spirit.

I was reminded of a western expression this morning. While speaking about the economy and the enormous challenges facing our nation, someone said, "It's time for all of us to cowboy up." I immediately thought of the women pictured above. They have "cowgirled up" in big ways.

Some have dealt with illness and death with parents or in-laws. Some have watched the baby leave the nest. Some have carried the worry load over health issues with loved ones while jumping into action. In the two years since this photo was taken, some of our lives have changed dramatically -- in good ways too. There have been business ventures and new grandchildren. Many happy moments with family and friends. These women, and many others I know, choose to soldier on and they usually do it with a ton of class.

Tomorrow is Obama's inauguration and like millions of people, I will watch and listen. I'm sure his speech will be uplifting but he's given enough statements for us to know it will also be filled with warnings of tough times ahead. Frankly, I feel like I've been cowgirling up for a while now. But I will plod ahead. I may put on my cowboy boots, toast my girls in Zona and psyche myself up for a tougher cowgirl attitude.

Never say Never

Just like the word "hate," I also try to avoid the word "never." One is cruel and the other is permanent. If I'm expected to keep growing and learning, neither of these words belongs in my vocabulary.

I've had girlfriends announce they will never remarry. I've attended the next wedding. The husband likes to state (loudly) that he will never have another dog after this one. My next dog and I will miss him.

As far as I can tell, I will probably never go sky diving and I will avoid camping with everything I can muster. I might hate ideas or situations I find myself in -- I will not hate people.

Making and Living the Vows

I have a few friends that are going through bumps in the road. Any time a girlfriend starts referring to her husband as "Satan," I think this girl needs a girl trip, or at least, a night out.

Although those people who get married in mid-air or under water get all the attention, most of us choose the traditional route. Lots of people write their own vows but most of us stick with the traditional ones:

I, (name) take you, (name) to be my (wife/husband.) To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

Lovely words and they should be a solemn promise. I've broken it and that is something I'm not proud of.

Sometimes the pageantry gets in the way from seeing the big picture. Here's where living the vows kicks in:

To have and to hold from this day forward.
Some days you will not want to have him or hold him. He won't be very fond of you either. All brides should know that "to hold" doesn't necessarily mean the man you married -- sometimes it's just holding on to the promise.

For better or for worse.
Yes, you will have both. If you get through them, you will find your strength in these times. They can also break you.

For richer, for poorer.
I've never understood women who marry for money. One business bankruptcy, one stock market crash, a couple of bad financial decisions, etc. and it's toast. Nobody chooses poor but it's all in the definition. I don't define "rich" by my bank balance.

In sickness and in health.
I watched the Belle and the Captain. She was an amazing caretaker and certainly took more care of him than he did of her. However, in his own way, he tried very hard. He needled her about taking her meds. He was often saying, "Sit down and rest." When they were both healthy, he was quite proud to show her off.

To love and to cherish.
The love part is easy for me. Even if I am angry, my love does not falter but I don't show it very well. Cherish is a word I associate with children. Some versions of the vows replace this with "to honor and obey." I'm not talented at that "obey" thing. I'm working on cherish and honor. Obey is never going to happen. (At least I'm honest about it.)

Til death do us part.
It's a pretty clear statement. Just another example of something it took me a while to understand. Now I understand that if something goes south with this marriage, it doesn't have to be a physical death -- it would be a death of my heart.

For a reasonably smart person, I'm good at stupidity.

The word that does not show up in the traditional vows is "forgiveness."

Different Times; Different Places

This is only a few of my college girlfriends and I'm sad to admit that I have no idea who is in the middle. But I'm thinking about them. Not only because the baby is in college but for where we are in life.

One of the friends in this photo is a widow and now raising two girls without her beloved. Another is getting married for the first time next month and about to become a step mom -- a position I highly recommend.

We're all roughly the same age and we're all in different places. Some have young children; some have grown children. Some have fabulous careers; others have picked and chosen, whether right or wrong.

There are several friends missing from this picture but the essence is there. Young women embarking on it all ... careers, marriage, motherhood.

I hope we were toasting our parents for giving us this opportunity but I doubt that's what was going through our minds.

Having a Spell

Last week, I met with several friends -- the workout girls. We were celebrating three birthdays and catching up on the various things in our lives. Just because my oldies are gone doesn't mean I'm not in touch with Oldieville. Some are facing surgery, some are hanging on in homes, some are waiting for the next shoe to drop. I look around at this girlfriend group and I'm certain they are willing to pick up the pieces.

We're all good friends, good daughters, good wives, good mothers/stepmothers. We all put on the chameleon suit and rise to the occasion. I looked around the table and realized that all of these women spend their days asking clients, friends, children, parents and friends: "What do you need; how can I help?" Then, she digs in and does it.

Big Sal's husband was hospitalized. Our doctor (saint-in-training) ran a battery of tests. He's probably healthier than 90 percent of the population.

She called us and said, "Pour me a margarita. He's just having a spell."

Smart women know when to stop coddling. They know when the coast is clear, your best course of action might be some laughter and a margarita with some friends.

A Doggie Day

Today is the maniac's birthday party. I lucked into a beautiful day so all the doggies can romp outside.

I've had several people question my sanity for doing this. Others get it right away. It's not really about the dogs.

It's about a girlfriend experiencing financial difficulties who could use a break and a few laughs.
It's about a girlfriend who just took her youngest child to college and needs some support.
It's about girlfriends who are taking care of aging parents and running ragged with work.
It's about me and the opportunity to gather on a sunny afternoon with some friends I don't see as often as I'd like.
It's a couple of hours where we get to escape and enjoy a few laughs.

It may be Gabby's birthday but it's really a tribute to friends -- hers and mine.

Battle of the Sexes

When I travel, whether it's solo, with the husband or with girlfriends, I am in charge of certain things:

I pack my own clothes.
I make lists for any food or drinks we are responsible to bring. I run the errands.
If we're flying, I print out the e-tickets.
I make sure all prescriptions are filled and current.
I coordinate who will pick up the mail and the newspapers.
If we're taking the dog, I pack her bag.
I do laundry and go to the dry cleaners so all clothing options are available.
Depending on the trip, I have the names and phone numbers for the airline, rental car and anything else we might need.

Since I am a control freak, this works for me. One of my friends has to put her clothing out and then her husband packs for both of them. This would not work for me. If nothing else, I want my own suitcase.

The husband is traveling next week and I have:

Picked up prescriptions.
Picked up dry cleaning.
Ordered food for the meal he will prepare.
Grocery shopped for the other parts of the meal.
Bought paper plates, platters and napkins.
Started a pile of things he will need.

I still have two more errands to run for his trip. Last night, I pointed out how this seems a little out of balance. He responded, "It's not my fault you're the girl."

It's a lot easier to go play golf or catch up on paperwork when you have a control freak at home.

Dancing Queen

Dancing is part of my soul. I'm not good at it but I don't care. It brings me great joy. I dance at parties. I danced in ballet and theater groups. I dance on counters. My favorite times with the husband are when we dance on the patio.

I rarely give opinions about recent movies because I rarely go the movie theater. This has been a banner summer -- I've been twice.

While at the lake, a gaggle of girlfriends and acquaintances (11 of us!) traded in a gray and drizzly day for dinner and a movie. The vote was unanimous, Mamma Mia. Mixed reviews had come from all sides, the media, people I know who had seen it, etc. I knew I would love the music and I was happy for the theater experience. They could just put Pierce Brosnan on the screen for two hours and I would eat popcorn and be a happy lady. I'm also a big fan of Meryl Streep and Colin Firth.

See it. Better yet, see it with some girlfriends. Sing along. The movie is great but for extra fun, the song routines during the credits had eleven women singing at the screen and waving our arms.

There is a little part of me that is a "Dancing Queen."

Moving

Some people love to move. They change houses or even cities on a whim. There's a purging of stuff and a fresh start that they enjoy.

I am not one of these people. I get ridiculously attached to trees and memories made within the bricks and mortar. My childhood home and neighborhood is still there and I like it that way.

My friend is moving and it's a mixed bag of feelings for her. It's a good decision but like me, she's clinging to the memories. I keep reminding her that she has the magic touch -- anywhere she lives will be a home filled with love.

And hopefully, lots of great memories in the making.

People Don't Know Their Influence -- Part One

There's an old saying about children ... "they don't do what you say, they do what you do." Sad, but probably true.

I think it's possible for many people to go through life without realizing they are being watched. I've had great bosses, great ministers, great friends. I'm watching. I'm learning.

Nick Seats allowed me to follow him around in his agency while I was in high school and college. (Like a Labrador Retriever with her tongue hanging out.) He inspired me.

The mean, mean teacher I had in my freshman year of college told me I would never cut it. She thought I wasn't tough enough. Wanna Bet?

Several years ago, a daughter of my friend had to write a paper about someone she admires. When she chose me, I was honored. Another friend brought me back to earth by saying, "She probably likes the way you smoke."

The Pasadena gang of my childhood still influences me. (Both the children and the parents.)

The obvious one is my parents. Love abounded in our household, along with a strong dose of morals and responsibility. But my favorite influence is that they both know how to laugh with abandon.

My goldies (bestest friends in the whole wide world) taught me what friendships can be. They can span decades. They can survive hard times. They can transport you in time and allow the inner child to emerge. They can hold you hostage with photos or notes they have kept.

Syd Cook taught me what a boss is supposed to be. He spoiled me for anyone else. He exemplifies traits I aspire to have. He also taught me that when your plane is sliding on an icy runway, headed for Lake Michigan, it's ok to grab hands and say, "This is not how I planned to f+++ing die." (We obviously survived.)

My girlfriend group has no idea how much I study them. I learn everything from style to parenting (or grandparenting) tips. I am the perpetual student at their feet.

There are many more. That will be Part Two. Stay tuned.

Betrayal and Forgiveness

Lots of people have self-imposed rules of behavior. I suppose I fall in that camp, although I seem to have much higher expectations of myself than others.

Here's the kicker. I have been betrayed. I have betrayed others. I can be just flighty enough to awaken at 3:00 AM and realize that I told a story -- one that was shared in confidence to only me. Talk about feeling like a fool. Flowers don't quite cut it when you've just exposed someone else's deepest worry or fear.

My mother thinks I am way too "out there" with my life. I disagree but I will give her this little bit of wiggle room. If the husband or the children hurt me, the people who were on the end of this sad, weepy story immediately want to buy guns and a wood chipper.

This is why I believe in forgiveness. I forget the last day I was perfect. Perhaps it was my birth and I know my perfection didn't last very long. (A howling infant with frog legs was not what my parents had in mind.) Girlfriends who have crushed me are still my great friends. The husband and I have struggled for umpteen years to come to grips with our Type A personalities and choices we've made. Still, I want to roll over and find him there.

I am not a doormat. Forgiveness is a huge part of my heart and soul. It's selfish: it's for me.

But I do have a mean memory.

Are You Happy?

During our goldies weekend, we did our traditional questions in a box. We all write our questions individually and dump them in. It's not unusual to draw a duplicate question. In some way it's a validation that we're all on the same page.

Asking "Are You Happy?" is a great conversation starter. We're not going for euphoria -- just more good things than bad. Turns out we all have a bunch of unhappy stuff in our lives but it's manageable. The outlets we choose (like this girlfriend weekend) help us cope.

I'm suspicious of people who are always happy. Are they drugged? Are they in denial?

Lots of our questions made me think. Some of them have been repeated but every year brings new challenges and opportunities to remind each other that we are not alone in our various struggles.

We go from whimsical to morose. Here are a few of my favorites:

Do you wish you'd had more children?
When your marriage gets tough, what makes you stay?
What worries you the most about your kids?
Are you trying to live a greener, eco-friendly life?
Are you becoming your mother?
Shoot me if ...

It probably helps to have 30+ years under our belt. We're a safety zone.

Not Disappointed

Yesterday was the beginning of my goldies weekend. You now how sometimes you look forward to something with such anticipation that you feel let down because it didn't live up to your expectations? This is not the case. So far it's even better than I dared to hope.

Yes, I did cry in the airport.

We all had our questions but Jan kept calling to remind us not to start them without her. We had enough food and drinks for an army. Once the three of us were in the same room, any sane person would've had a head spin. We couldn't talk fast enough. My goddaughters came over and I noticed some eye rolling at how silly the three of us can become.

Did I mention that Jan needed to have her dogs out of her house for a couple of hours so at one point, we had my maniac dog and her three dogs running around. Gabby thought this was a big party just for her!

Other than our husbands and children, we know each other better than anyone else in the world. Yet, we still keep learning about each other. Within the first hour, we had cried and then laughed until we cried our make-up off. All of our quirks and mannerisms came out in full force. We listened to music and interrupted each other to say, "This song reminds me of the time ..." My stomach muscles actually ached from laughing.

And the weekend has just begun!

Travel Partners

Some people travel better solo. Others settle into a comfortable routine with friends and/or business associates. In my early days of the corporate world, they used to ask the women to bunk together. I don't think they do that anymore.

I travel well with many of my girlfriends. We've shared rooms from Manhattan to Florida to Arizona to the Caribbean to Mexico. My first question in the morning is, "Did I snore?"

Traveling with the husband is my favorite. (He already knows we both snore.) We've traveled a lot this year but our trips together have revolved around funerals.

The only traveling I did with the oldies was driving them back and forth to Mississippi. I wish I had taken a girl trip with the Belle. It would never have happened. She would've insisted that Hangdog tag along.

The Golden Girls travel well together but it took a few years or decades to get that in sync. Plus, we're used to each other's quirks. We may get on each other's nerves but we recover quickly.

I just returned from Manhattan and a great conference. Abby and I have attended it multiple times. We did not share a room, although we often did that in our early business relationship. We both love NY. We both love this conference. We have a long-standing friendship which includes a profound respect for each other's opinions and each other's space. We manage to strike a balance of what we want to do together and when we need separate time.

Although I talk to her almost every day and we collaborate on many things, this conference weekend has often been a reconnection of our friendship. We're not afraid to say things. Maybe it's being out of our usual surroundings. Maybe we're both so pumped with ideas and excitement that some of the walls come down.

It's a business trip and we work very hard to absorb as much information as we can. We toss ideas at each other over a glass of wine. We have the luxury of discussion time without the nagging pressures of daily commitments. We talk about business. We spend some time on Memory Lane -- my favorite street. We make comments about each other's lives that we wouldn't say in our normal, time-pressured conversations.

She helped me sort through some things. I hope I was a sounding board for her.

Then, we shared our enthusiasm and excitement about attending next year.

It's Me and My Six Dogs

The Belle and I used to share stories. I suspect I know more of her premarital history than her sons. These were our girlfriend moments.

Once I was in a domestic situation -- okay, some called it a marriage but I don't remember it that way. I wanted out in a big way.

Beyond the obvious issues of ending a relationship, I had no idea what to do with myself and my dependents. They weren't children; they were dogs. One dog had been with me for years. One I had recently rescued from the Target parking lot. She repaid the favor by having four puppies in my closet.

I don't remember what tipped me over the edge but I do remember that night with great clarity. It was a Friday and the upcoming Monday was a holiday. I couldn't fathom a long weekend. I called on girlfriend support which meant an emergency meeting for a drink after work.

I went to my house. I paced a lot (in between tending to my six dogs.) I gave myself a window to wait for him. I rehearsed what I would say. I threw a few items of clothing in a bag to get me through. When it hit 7:00 P.M., I could wait and pace no longer. I put six dogs in a laundry basket and I left a note.

It's humiliating to remember. I am actually one of those people who has left a "Dear John" letter as I fled. You know where I went.

One of my parents opened the door. They knew I was unhappy but they were not expecting me to show up on their doorstep. One of my favorite quotes is from Robert Frost:

Home is where they have to take you in.

He didn't mention hauling six dogs along.

Commuter Marriages

The oldies died when they were both 84-years old. If my math is correct, he retired roughly 30 years ago. Although the Belle continued to work for several years, the rest of their time was spent together. Once she took a weekend trip with her sisters but other than that, they did everything together.

If she didn't feel well, he stayed in bed next to her. If she had a hair appointment, he went with her. If she was frying up breakfast, lunch or dinner, he watched. Sometimes she would go into the baby's room to play cards on the computer or listen to music the baby had downloaded for her. Hangdog would follow behind and stretch out on the bed in that room. He had to be near her. Sometimes you could witness a flash of annoyance but for the most part, I think she considered it a compliment.

I, of course, cannot comprehend this. It's sweet to watch but if I were living it, I would have an immediate attack of claustrophobia. (Sometimes I'm obsessed with the clock and counting down the hours until he will leave. It's not lack of love; I just need my own time and space.)

We have reached the stage in life that most of our friends are empty nesters. After the initial shock and reality that your little chickens have actually flown the coop, people start to make decisions. Some travel more. Some decide they didn't really like each other after all and they get divorced. Others (who have the financial means to do so) invest in second and third homes.

I'm both intrigued by the thought and exhausted for those people who manage it.

Last night, the husband and I caught up with a friend for dinner. He wasn't alone because he's single; he's alone because his wife is in their Colorado home. He will join her this weekend. Their Indiana place is home base, probably because he can run his business and it's centrally located. Later, they'll go to their home in Florida. Do I sound jealous? (Maybe I am -- just a wee bit.)

More of my friends are choosing this option. My friend, Big S, spends the majority of the winter in her Arizona home. Her husband flies in every 10 days or so. Another friend spends her winters in Florida and her summers at her lake home. They also have a home in Indianapolis. She and her husband probably spend as much quality time together as the husband and I do.

Which saying is true? "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" or "Out of sight, out of mind." It's a little Pollyanna but I think it is the first expression.

What Not to Say -- Part Two

This is not as eloquent as the post about military wives. But it does ring in with the "Duh!" factor. Here's some of my list of what not to say to me:

1. Your Dog is a Maniac.
Yes, I know that. I try my best to get her acclimated and when you are in my home, I try my best to keep her out of the way.

2. You drink/smoke/curse too much.Duh!
These are not honorable vices but until you've walked in my shoes, I'll get a little offended.

3. You're not aging well.
No, I'm not. Do you think I don't own a mirror?

4. You're a Saint.
Mother Teresa - yes; Sheri Roman - no.

5. It must be fun to have a rock and roll husband.
Yes and no. It's fun to watch the band perform and I am proud of their accomplishments. But you are not here while he's playing the same refrain OVER and OVER again trying to learn a part. The band takes up huge chunks of time and money. It's his release so I so go forward and enjoy. But sometimes I get a little cranky.

6. You're too thin.
Yes, I am. But I am well within the parameters that my doctor established for me. See number 3. I do own a mirror.

7. You spend too much time on the phone.
This is Hangdog's biggest complaint with me. Yes, I talk to my parents. Yes, I talk to girlfriends. I am also trying to run a business and most of my work is done through phone calls and email. I also seem to talk to him several times every day or in the middle of the night.

8. Don't you miss the children?
This is the ultimate on the "duh" scale. Of course I (we) miss them. The husband and I have spent many nights in a slump because we have an empty nest. We question every decision. Then we remember that it's their turn to make their own decisions.

What are your hot buttons?

It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

I love Lesley Gore. Her songs are simple ballads and get this, you can actually understand the lyrics. It's mostly teenage angst but when you listen to them in middle age, the same feelings are there. They're just focused in a new direction.

My aunt introduced me to her and I learned every word to every song. (Her greatest hits are on my iPod.) Decades after my aunt gave me the gift of her music, Lesley Gore performed a concert here and my aunt and I danced and sang in the aisles. It's one of my favorite memories.

Another aunt thinks it's healthy that I can cry and laugh easily. My emotions are not contained. I didn't know our bodies held this much salty water. I can cry until I laugh and I can laugh until I cry.

Hangdog called last night. After our conversation, I cried.
The husband did something extra nice for me last night. I cried.
Someone sent me a funny email. I laughed until I cried.

In a few days I'm headed off for a quickie vacation. I'm afraid the girlfriends involved may lock me in a closet until I stop crying. Even if it's a happy cry.

Ring Tones

When I call my girlfriend, her cell phone ring is REO Speedwagon's "Time For Me to Fly." (We were listening to it on 8 track in high school.) That was one of our favorite groups and one of our favorite songs. Her phone could be buried in the bottom of her handbag but she knows instantly that it's me. I'm impressed and jealous. She programmed my phone so when Big Daddy calls, instead of his phone number, it says, "Husband."

The baby has different ring tones for different people. I have no idea what mine is but we've joked that maybe it should be that old song, "The Bitch is Back." Yet, he still answers.

Big Daddy and the daughter text each other. Learning text messaging is next on my technology agenda but I'm not sure I have the dexterity. How did I get so far behind?