There is something almost magical about getting together with an old friend. Not the friend that you speak to every day, but the one who has touched base with your life for several years. The old friends that I have are akin to brothers and sisters. I see them almost as often as I see my own brothers and sisters, and I have much the same level of affection. For me, good friends are family (though for some reason step children – not my own--don’t really count – don’t ask me why) –
Anyway, this entry, not unlike several of the past, is inspired by my 20 year high school reunion. You know, it really is quite amazing how the past clings to you in all sorts of weird ways. Anyway, the upside of the reunion is that I’ve been able to get back in touch with the person that I call my only friend from high school – David Thomas. David sat in front of me for three years of Mrs. Robert’s math classes (geometry, algebra 2, advanced math). And the last year we spent much of that time playing connect four on the chalk board – and were good enough in class that Mrs. Roberts just let us keep the board up so we didn’t have to redraw and asked that we at least be quiet so that we didn’t disturb the rest of the class. I went over to his house once and played chess. During our freshman year of college, David was the only person who wrote to me (once on popcicle sticks – that I remember – I wrote once on a balloon) and I remember vaguely that his roommate was someone named Trent – Ricks I think – and he would do weird things like put his penis on someone’s table while they were trying to do homework – that may be urban legend but from what I even more vaguely remember about Trent, it could have happened. A few years after that, David showed up at Kinko’s. We had lunch at subway and I went over to his apartment – that he shared with Jason Majors and his girlfriend. I had some of that cough syrup tasting booze – bleck – that was about 10 years ago. And he’d just attended the 10 year reunion. I didn’t go – I was working at Kinko’s with nothing to show. I was still in college, working at Kinkos. His response was that at least I was married (and to be fair, for me, that was a pretty big accomplishment – not to be self-depreciating – but really – I’m nothing to look at, opinionated, and controlling (in a side stepping manipulative type of way that works well for me and leaves most others unsuspecting). He was working at radio shack and attending Hillvue Heights church – we discussed tithing – I was a bit amazed that he was so devout – but it may have been during a newly baptized phase of his life – I however have lived much of my life in contact with someone who is stuck in the newly baptized phase of religion and am not so easily swayed (do you think that if my father had known that his faith would have stymied my own, he’d have practiced reverse psychology?).
Anyway, enough about the life and times of David Thomas. You, hopefully, get the point. There is history there. I know that when he was in the 5th grade he told people that he read the encyclopedia for enjoyment (though later claimed that he was lying – I still prefer to believe him). I know that when he was in middle school and lived in the big brick house on my bus route he almost drowned in his in ground pool and was saved by his aunt (and remember mostly thinking how lucky he was to have an in ground pool). I know that he also liked the A-Team in middle school and I know this because we would all sit in the back 2 rows on the bus (Bubba Grant, Brent, David and I) and we’d sing/ hum the theme song and talk about last night’s episode. He would also pretend to talk when the bus went over the gravel road (to pick up Eric Vickory – who was odd then and the last time I saw him) – and when the bus stopped turn his voice on as if it were on the whole time. I know that in high school he and his friends were into dungeons and dragons and came up with a fake bomb and that is why Trigg County had it’s first bomb threat notation in the student handbook.
Anyway, though I didn’t intend for this entry to the ode to David Thomas, you get the point. There is a history there. Something that doesn’t have to be explained. Stories that we don’t visit that often but laugh about when we do. My friends Terri and Sandy are the same. I see them once a year, maybe twice. They are on my mailing lists for videos and school sales. I will call and chat occasionally – I don’t have to see them every day or talk to them every day but they are there a part of my family. I know that if I were having surgery and frightened out of my mind I could call them and they would come. I hadn’t spoken to them for almost 10 years and found them during one of my nostalgic summer searches and not 3 months later they were throwing me a baby shower with people they didn’t even know.
There is a magic in having those kinds of friends. In part because every moment you spend with them is full of love and laughter. When you don’t see anyone that often, then every moment is special and a memory. You aren’t there long enough to get hurt, angry, upset, bored, disgusted. It is why some long distance relationships work so well (though with friendships there’s no assumption of faithfulness – really it’s ok for them to have other friends, I don’t mind – and that helps too). The other part of the magic is that you remember these friends better than they actually are – in my mind they are always perfect. To some degree they are almost like imaginary friends. This blog is a part of that. It is my imaginary conversation with my friends that I don’t get to see that often – and what lovely conversations they often are. I hear Terri’s voice – always saying, “well, you know Aim…” and either agreeing or disagreeing (which would mean we’re talking about politics).
They don’t really make commercials about these types of friendships. Or rather, I’ve never seen one. It seems the ideal is the sex in the city friendships where the girls get together every week and talk about life and what not – or go shopping together, or to movies, or out, or whatever. And there is this part of me that feels like that because I don’t have that type of friendship then somehow I’ve failed as a person. I mean, I still classify my relationships into family and friends (those friends who should be family) and people at work that I like (but don’t want to hang out with – makes work messy), parents of elijah’s friends that I like and can have a decent play date with, people I don’t care about, and people that I wish would have bad things happen to (this is a very small list and I try to forget them most of the time). Pretty much those are the groups. And when I have a social event – well I keep it divided about like that – though you should add a group for Jose’s family – so we have events in triplicate because I don’t mingle groups well. Sometimes, on very rare occasions, someone might move from one group to another. Jenny and Vicki moved from people I work with to people I consider family. Who knows . . . I’m a bit off track from the original topic here – that’s what happens when you start to ramble at the end of the day – but there it is. And it all brought on again by that damn high school reunion – that I’m just going to have to attend. Unlike prom my junior or senior year, I think I might actually regret not attending this – and I don’t believe in doing anything that I might regret. The worse that could happen is that no one talks to me – and well – been there done that – scratch that the worse thing is that Michele could show up drunk, embarrass me – someone will say isn’t that your sister? No? I always thought you were sisters? So your Jodi and Angie’s sister? Jodi and Jason’s. I though Jason and Angie were brother and sister. Well hmmm… at which point, I have keys, own a car, and won’t be too far from Dad’s house. I’ll let you know how it goes – and just so you know –I’m not dressing up – and not going to the formal dinner – who eats at 8:00 – people with maids and nanny’s I guess.
