Lucky

I have a fridge magnet that says, "It takes a long time to grow an old friend". The person who gave it to me knows that first hand. We met on Halloween night in 1962. Fifty years ago! We trudged up Steinkey's cement steps clad in our seasonal get-ups and when Mrs. Steinkey went to put some bubble gum in my goody bag, I said, "I can't eat bubble gum!" And my newfound friend echoed, "She can't eat bubble gum!" Darlene didn't know I had six silver caps on my molars from the chocolate-bar-producing pocket in my Dad's plaid coat, she was just trying to make a good impression. It was a magical night and little did we know, it was the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

Me and Dar
Grade 5

We spent many Halloween's together. I remember the time my Mom took us trick or treating up on the hill by the hospital. The candy was better up there. We were both wearing old clothes found in my basement - dresses, shawls, bag-lady attire. This one house had stairs with no guardrail. From the top step we hollered, "Trick or treat - money or sweets!" The lady of the house swung the door open in an enthusiastic greeting and knocked Darlene right off the step. I watched her take flight in what seemed like slow motion. Her dress appeared to billow like a parachute before she became stranded in the rosebush below. Mom and I could hardly rescue her for laughing. 

We were a foursome by the time our last Halloween rolled around when we were teenagers. Betsy and Lorely had joined our troupe. We decided to congregate at Darlene's house because her folks weren't home. Too old to go door to door for treats the only option left was tricks. Darlene went to the fridge and found a single egg. We convened over this egg, and decided who was best to launch it at an approaching vehicle from the back step. Since I had the best aim I was chosen. We huddled together out in the dark waiting for the next car. I bounced the egg in the palm of my hand like a hot potato. Then, around the corner came a beam of headlights. We squealed with excitement. I drew back my arm and when I thought the car was close enough I threw that egg with all my might. I swear it sailed through the air with an audible whistle before it exploded right in the middle of the windshield. The driver slammed on his brakes causing us to scream and scramble over each other trying to get inside the house. We shut off all the lights and laid on the kitchen floor laughing - hoping the driver hadn't seen us and wouldn't come knocking.

Our friendship evolved as we grew up. We both married young and went our separate ways for a time - still reconnecting on the phone once in a while to confirm that our friendship was alive and well. Sharing pregnancies was an event that rekindled our friendship. It was my second and Darlene's first. We'd waddle to Taco Time for lunch and then over to the mall for a double licorice ice cream cone. What a pair. As luck would have it, we gave birth two weeks apart to the day. Darlene had her girl first and then mine followed. We talked colic and constipation. We took our growing daughters to movies, had birthday parties and sleepovers and seemed to have a built-in excuse for spending time together again. Lucky us.

Then my moving to another city seemed to threaten what we had worked so hard to rebuild. We were both afraid we'd lose touch and not see each other anymore. But the miles between us only seemed to bring us closer. We wrote letters, exchanged emails and visited each other as often as possible. We had the kind of friendship that could withstand the distance, and in spite of it, there have been few life events not shared. 

My husband and I were seated with the family at Darlene's daughter's wedding. We've shared the births of our grandchildren and the deaths of beloved parents and pets. The birthday card I sent her this year said, "We'll be friends forever! You know too much!". It's true, she knows me - heart and soul. And she loves me anyway. I like to think God put her in my life that night fifty years ago hoping we'd become friends - knowing that someday, I'd need a sister.

Lucky me.

The Gift Giver...

It's Father's Day and naturally it brings to mind my Dad. He wasn't academically educated or well-traveled but that didn't make him a simple man. He supplemented his grade eight education by reading everything he could get his hands on and he was one of the smartest men I've ever known. Dad was like an encyclopedia and dictionary all bound into one. He was my go-to-guy if there was something I didn't know. 

Dad was like the internet to me before it existed. As much as he prized knowledge, I don't know what he would've thought of surfing the web and dallying in cyberspace. It might've tested his patience a bit. I know he wouldn't have liked the threat to his privacy. He preferred to keep things close to his chest.

Dad was a thoughtful man. Not just in the thinking sense; he was a magnificent gift giver. Sometimes the gifts were extravagant, other times they were just heartfelt. I have numerous pieces of jewelry he bought for me and for my Mom; lovely, glittery, expensive, baubles that were dimmed only by the happy sparkle in the eyes of the recipient. He never forgot an occasion and once when I was sitting on the living room floor engrossed in a television program, he dropped a silver pendant watch in my lap as he walked by. He really didn't need a reason to give you a gift. He just did it. I loved that about my Dad. 

One would think he was an avid shopper, but he wasn't. He had select stores he dealt with; Carnelli's Sporting Goods, Black's Hardware, Harv's Jewelry, Ed's Studio Craft, Parker's Furniture, and they catered to him. They knew he was looking for the best value at an honest price. Dad didn't mind spending a good dollar, but he wanted to know he got a good deal. When his hometown grew and his favorite shopping haunts gradually disappeared, he took to catalogue shopping. He enjoyed browsing the pages of Signals, Wireless, Hammacher Schlemmer, Barnes and Noble and even Coldwater Creek catalogues all from the comfort of his favorite chair. 

We all benefited from Dad's generous gift-giving. One item I treasure to this day is the celtic resin cross he bought me inscribed with The Lord's Prayer. But the most precious is a doorknocker he gave me when we moved into our first home in 2002. "Peace to All Who Enter Here" is the blessing it bestowed to all who came knocking. Sadly, I had to leave it behind when we moved last year. As much as I wanted to bring it with me, removing it would've left two gaping holes in the new owner's front door. The glass front door in our new home had no place for it. I hope it's a gift that continues to give to the new owners. I think Dad would like that.

My Dad and I didn't always see eye to eye. Ours was a complicated relationship. But that didn't mean we loved each other any less. It could be, that made us love each other even more.

Therein lies the best gift of all.

It's a Wonderful Life...

Today is my birthday. I admit, I still get a little excited about it. Maybe it's because I never imagined living this long. Or maybe it's because I still look forward to the year ahead. I'm entering my fifty-fifth year. Holy crap!!!

But what's not to celebrate, my life is great. I'm married to a gem of a man. I have a loving family and amazing friends. I'm blessed to have children around me, those borrowed and those earned. Just last week I welcomed my third grandchild; a little boy we call 'Liam'. I have a sweet little part-time job and get to do what I love in my spare time, write, read, travel, and bead. Other than a few aches and pains I'm healthy.

I've come to the conclusion that these are the golden years. I get to enjoy stress-free living without the burden of rapidly declining health or career deadlines. I love the flexibility and ease of semi-retirement. I have the luxury of not having to wait for anyone to tell me I'm old enough to retire. I'm footloose and fancy free. 

Sure, there are some things I haven't done that I once thought were important to me. But as it turns out, with every candle flickering on my birthday cake my priorities have shifted. Skydiving and bungee jumping are out, walks with the dog and time with those I love are in. Lucky, lucky me.

If there's one thing I know, it's that age is irrelevant. So, if someone asks me how old I am, I'm going to quote a line from the novel, Let the Great World Spin, and simply say; "Too old to be an acrobat - too young to die."

Now I'm off to breathe in more of this wonderful life and blow out these candles. It's getting hot in here.