Sharing

People always assume that the only child is spoiled rotten. I will light the way and show you the truth. Children with jillions of siblings are the selfish ones. They grow up fighting and finagling for their fair share of affection, quality time, new shoes and sometimes food. As adults, they tend to hang on tightly to what is rightfully theirs.

I find only children to be the opposite. We didn't have to share in our childhood so our parents drilled the importance of giving and sharing into us. Need a car? Borrow mine. Need some books? I'll put a box together for you. Need a shoulder to cry on? I always have time. Are you in trouble or scared? I'll put clean sheets on the guest bed and tuck you in.

Being an only child is supposedly very lonely but that's not reality. I have this posse of friends, aunts, cousins who make me feel like siblings. Plus, I have my pseudo sister and especially my goldies.

Health Scares

I don't like health-related scares. I realize that is a ridiculous sentence -- no one does. Although, Hangdog used to love to dream up symptoms and find any excuse to go to the doctor or the emergency room. Some were real and some were imaginary but I often wondered if this is an old person's version of a social life.

The goldies weekend is in full swing and a lot of our questions seem to come back to health and body: ours, our spouses, our parents, etc. Some of our parents are alarmists, others are secret keepers until the crisis is over. My parents are not secret keepers but they often don't give me full disclosure. I see and talk to my parents A LOT more than the other girls. It's kind of hard for us to keep too much from each other.

But my parents also know, I go immediately to "Jump in and fix it" mode. If there's a medical issue at hand, I have my doctor on speed dial. I will call every person I know in the medical field. I will have a list of the best specialist and the quacks that you shouldn't take your bird to. And if it's necessary, I WILL get you in to see the right person. (I'm very polite about it.)

We're not obsessed with it but I admit to some comfort in knowing my body is not doing anything that they are not also experiencing. There's a sisterhood in knowing that they also lose sleep when their husband is stressed or their parents have a scare.

Plus, our wacky senses of humor come through. One of us can be describing some non-life- threatening but disgusting ailment or disease. Instead of getting somber and sympathetic, we tend to burst into laughter.

Every little bit helps.

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!

A Good Week

Everyone likes something to look forward to. As a teenager, it drove Jan crazy that I would leave new items of clothing hanging in my closet with the tags on them. The anticipation was fun for me. Now she has a daughter who does the same thing.

Today I had lunch with my parents (and miraculously escaped without my ankles being attacked.) I have been looking forward to it for days and the anticipation was worth it. My mother always teases that I've forgotten the route to their home. I left a trail of breadcrumbs but I found it.

In less than 48 hours, I will head to the airport and pick up Deb. Then the goldies will hole up, talk, sing, laugh and cry until we're practically hoarse. We're going for pedicures. We'll watch movies and listen to music. Of course, we will do our questions. Deb bought a new box for the question slips. Are we weird or what?

It's my birthday week and I have been showered with cards and fun wishes. All in all, more good stuff than bad. That makes for a very fine week.

Golden Girl Reunion

The Golden Girl reunion is coming up. It's been more than a year and I can't wait. They tease me about my choice of words but yes, I am giddy.As you know, we play the question game. We all submit questions and then dump them in a bag. No subject is off limits. We never run out of things to talk about but the questions help us catch up.

You would think we know everything there is to know about each other. We've known each other more than 30 years (and I'm being kind.)  We email (almost) every day. Jan and I talk (almost) every day. Deb is far away but we are in constant contact. If she needed us, Jan and I would be on the next plane. 

I loved school. I used to make up homework. (Yes, I am that dorky.) Plus, the journalism training kicks in and my questions need to be relevant and poignant.


I am always blown away at our ability to get to the heart of the matter.  A question may provoke a tear or a great memory laugh.  Then, we realize we're in the safety zone of our friendship and we're allowed to ask, "How are you going to handle that?"  We don't have to say it aloud.  It's implied, "How can I help?"

The husbands get a little nervous about our reunion.  I'm sure they think we spend the entire time talking about them.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  We stroll memory lane and advise each other about jobs, kids, pets, etc.  We eat and drink with abandon.The three of us have seen it all.  For the most part, we've held each other's hands (or been handed a margarita.)  Death, childbirth, marriage, loss, biopsies, menopause, puberty, etc.  

My favorite part is that we don't have to explain ourselves to each other.  I/we can say, "I'm feeling weird today."  The other girls perk up and pitch in.

Manipulators

During an email conversation with the Golden Girls this week, one of them mentioned that her daughter has become a little manipulator. We disagreed on the word manipulator but we all agreed that daughters have a way with fathers. We debated whether fathers have a blind spot or just a soft spot for daughters. I think it's both.

I'm 44-years old and my father still has a soft spot for me. He expresses his concerns to my mother and then she gets to have the tough talk with me. I see the "she walks on water" look in the husband's eyes when we discuss the daughter.

It makes me sad for the millions of children who grow up without fathers. Boys, of course, need the stability, love and support of a father. They also need a role model. Girls all deserve to grow up with a man who thinks the sun rises and sets on them. My belief is that it creates a stronger sense of self with the reliable cushion of knowing you are loved.

I asked my friends these questions: "Didn't we do this when we were young? Didn't we know which parent to ask and always know Dad would be more likely to say yes?"

The best answer was, "I didn't ask. I just went ahead and did it."

Touche!

Grade schools and Policemen

I drove through the old neighborhood today. Not just the home where I grew up. I drove by the hospital where I was born and the grade school I attended. (The baby gets very tired of the same conversation every time I drive by this school. I say, "That's where I went to grade school." He says, "I know." And then he rolls his eyes. Wonder where he got that?

My golden girls and lots of my friends went to this grade school. Our generation experienced busing in this time. A big adventure was when our parents would allow us to walk home from school. A 20-minute walk could take hours; we found lots of detours. We felt safe.

Today, we all know about school shootings and other atrocious things. A posting on the Internet can incite a riot or a beating. Somehow, doing the duck and cover thing under the desk in preparation for nuclear war seems innocent and quaint.

I slowed down in the school zone so I had lots of time to pay attention. Two police cars out front and one in the side parking lot. Memory lane and a little sadness set in. The only time we saw a police officer at the school in my youth was when he came to explain Officer Friendly.

The Ant Song

I have no idea how this tradition started (or why) but a jillion years ago when I was about 12 or 13-years old, my girlfriends (the Golden Girls) and I used to sing it to each other in a crisis.

A crisis at age 13 is usually being rebuffed by a boy, getting a bad grade, having a pimple, someone being mean to you. It doesn't matter; it's still a crisis. During those times, having a girlfriend sing it could make you smile, make you feel loved and change your day.

Just what makes that little ol' ant think he can move that rubber tree plant?
Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes.
When you're feeling low, 'stead of letting go, just remember that ant.

You know the rest.

This morning I received an email. The gist of it was: I need the ant song.

So, I called and sang it to her. I don't know if she feels any better but I definitely do.

The song title is actually, High Hopes but in our world it's The Ant Song. We're alllowed to request it from each other at any time. It's also mandatory anytime we all get together.

Remembering 17

My Annie is 17 today.

Technically, she's not really mine but I'm not hung up on the technicalities.
Sunrise, sunset. Wasn't it yesterday when she was born? Wasn't it a year ago when I stood at the altar and took a vow to be her Godmother?

With both of my goddaughters, I was on the short list to hold them right after birth. I completely respect the right of the parents to hold them first. Then, I start knocking people out of my way.

Long, tall, and gorgeous doesn't begin to describe her. She looks like her mother but some of her father's genes are also apparent.

At 17, her mom and I had a lot of fun and participated in some mischief. I suspect she does the same.

You will notice her beauty before you talk to her. And then you will engage in conversation and see that she is smart and creative.

She's interested in writing and journalism. Guess how that makes me feel.

She doesn't recognize her powers yet and that is a good thing.

The Road Trip to See the Mansion

A friend of mine just moved. She and her husband have done very well for themselves and they just built a new house. It's not a house -- it's a mansion. I haven't seen it yet but I get regular emails about the progress and the stats. It sounds fabulous and I can't wait to see it. When I visit, I get my own wing.

I have known this friend forever. She's one of my Golden Girls. Her mom used to tell me a story of her 5th or 6th birthday party. Apparently, I cried because I didn't get the pink balloon. Go figure! I can still be reduced to tears if I don't get what I want.

Visiting will require an 8-plus hour road trip. I like to get on a plane, cross check and call forward, and simply get to my destination. The other Golden Girl insists that we drive. (By the way, we're not that old but they are my oldest friends and that qualifies them as Golden.) It's a lot of driving for a long weekend but we'll do it.

This is one of the most down-to-earth people I know. Plus, she has a gigantic heart. Their old house was only about 40 minutes from where the oldies used to live. Once we got the oldies settled here (1 year, 11 months and 2 weeks ago,) the mother-in-law had a freak out of things left in their old house. My friend took the time to go there, dig through cabinets and go through closets. She found everything on their list and shipped it here. This was way beyond the call of duty. At one point, she kept calling me to say, "I'm under the bed. Here's what I found. Do you think this is what they're searching for?" Eternal gratitude is not enough.

I don't like road trips beyond three hours. I get tired. My limbs start to ache. Two women alone makes my mother nervous so therefore, I get nervous. I'm a little more comfortable with my Big, Black Dog in the car. She's a sweetie but maybe it would deter someone from messing with us.

Thank Goodness, this wonderful woman is also a dog lover. She said, "Pick your dates and bring the Gabster." Her husband agreed to this. I'm pretty sure Big Daddy would not have done so.

So, there's a road trip in my future. She sent me an email this morning with various escapades about her dogs. Gabby will fit right in.

Passing Notes

School was hard for me to sit through. My work was done and I was easily bored. So, I spent my time writing notes to my girlfriends. My report cards constantly had some version of the remark, "Talks too much" or "She needs to stop sending notes." In high school, we had this down to a science. We could pass in the hallway or the lunchroom. There was always a note.

About 12 or so years ago, the Golden Girls were together for one of our trips. One of them had saved many of our notes from high school. We spent countless hours reading them and belly laughing.

The other day I was in church. My mother passed me a note. Then, she passed one to my aunt, sitting in the pew behind us. I sent my mom a note back. (Yes, we did participate in the service.) I want to contact every teacher that ever corrected me. I come by this honestly. I can't help it.

High Hopes

Frank Sinatra sang it best:

Just what makes that little old ant
Think he can move that rubber tree plant
Everyone knows an ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant

But he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie in the sky hopes

My golden girls and I used to sing this in high school. We still occasionally sing it to each other when one of us seems to need a boost.

I get depressed with the oldies. Their version of high hopes is that the mail will come early. Yippee!

I have a lot of wishes and dreams. I hope you do too. Just remember that ant ...

Whoops, there goes another rubber tree, whoops there goes another rubber tree, whoops there goes another rubber tree plant.