A Few Thoughts on Friends, Past Lives & Summer

Man, where has the summer gone? Lots of swimming and a little bit of sleeping late; a few barbecues mixed with a healthy dose of closet-cleaning; a couple of great trips with family and friends, and before ya know, it's nearly August, and in this neck of the woods, school starts.

Since I'm approaching 45 (oh please, I still think I'm 18, so hush), I admit I've been waxing pensive lately. That impending birthday, coupled with a great weekend spent with dear high school friends, plus a trip to my old Texas stomping grounds reinforces what I have discovered as one of the single most important truths in my life:

You can't get anywhere without your buds, and your buds are with you wherever you go.
 
Not talking Bud-weiser, or Bud-dy Holly, or any type of floral bud variety here; I'm talking straight up, in-your-face, know all your secrets buds who would walk through fire with you if you asked them to. Let's review:

I will talk to the wall, quite happily, for hours, so making acquaintances with virtually anyone on the planet is pretty easy for me.  My friends, on the other hand, are folks that have shared "stuff" with me...good stuff, bad stuff, really awful stuff, distasteful embarrassing stuff...you get it. We have history. We are honest with each other. We stand together if pushed. We can't believe how we wore our hair back then...but don't you mention it!

I realized this summer that my true friends will always be my true friends. Out of the blue, after nearly 25 years of not seeing one of my best high school pals, inside ten minutes, we were making wisecracks and wiping tears out of our eyes at the silliness of it all. There's an irony in the fact that this friend now works for a tobacco company, yet when we were 17, we pretended to smoke cigarrettes in the back of my car just to irritate one of our girlfriends...how stupid were we to think she'd have a conniption fit at our decision to become "smokers" when it was so obvious none of us knew the first thing about smoking! 25 years later we were crying with laughter at what morons we were...and what morons we still delight to be now! This friend of mine is still blonde and beautiful and very poised, and possesses one of the most razor-sharp wits I have ever encountered. I hope it won't be another 25 years until I see her again. She's invited me to visit and I just may take her up on it.

Another close high school and college friend has gone through an unimaginably difficult period in her life, and has emerged with her sense of humor intact, she has a new love, and she is more graceful and beautiful now than she ever has been. This is a woman who has it all together, and don't get in her face because she will hog-tie you at dominoes and leave you for dead in roughly three seconds, at the very same time she's saying a prayer for you and drinking your hot coffee. I hope to see more of this friend in the near future, too, and wish her well with her new life and love. She deserves every ounce of happiness she can squeeze.

Shortly after visiting with these high school buds, I returned to said high school, the place where these two aforementioned friends and I, plus a host of other ill reputes masquerading as "brainy overachievers," tried to combat extreme boredom in the paradise otherwise known as Southeast Texas.

As I drove around the school grounds with my young son (and his Game Boy), it struck me that the school is simply an empty, ugly building, the same as it was 25 years ago. I felt a little hollow in my soul, something was missing; how do you describe the antics, the hard work, the way you felt about your hopes and dreams, when all you can see is a grey brick building with hideous blue trim?

The things I remember about my past, whether that past is high school, college, career, or my life as a wife and mother, aren't things at all. They're people. Friends. Folks who have stood beside me, made me laugh, prodded me to be my best, told me to shut up already!

On this same visit to Texas, I was fortunate to spend time with a gang of cut-ups who tromped across the path that is my life. One pal I've known since I was 12, and we gossip and talk and share like sisters, and we discovered that we both still have an enduring love affair with the beach, and that we're probably going to turn into Church Ladies just like our moms. But hey, they have Church Ladies at the Beach, we'll fit right in!

Several college friends made various and sundry trips from their respective Texas homes to visit with me during the course of my trip, if only for a few hours, so they could meet my son and tell him lots of stories that SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN DIVULGED! But that is the beauty of friends. My son now knows that his mom has not always been the Wicked Rule Enforcer of the Galaxy as he once believed. And that is a very good thing.

And my coworkers, those colleagues at the utility company who stuck with me in less-than-stellar circumstances...there's no doubt our bond will never die...we may die laughing at all the horrible pranks we pulled on our boss or on our coworkers (the ones we didn't really like, for shame), but we're stuck together like glue.

This is supposed to be a blog where I rant and rave about being a Big Girl and about lots of chocolate eating. So why am I droning on and on about FRIENDS? Are we going to pull out the Precious Moments sculptures any second?

Well, ok, Miss Stay-in-the-Lines...I'm a Very Lucky Big Girl, and I have a busload of Chocolate-eating, kick-ass-and-take-name Friends. When I told them I wrote a book and was trying to get my meager little tome into bookstores, these gals ponied up, ordered multiple copies and told me what a great writer I am, when I know they're lying (but keep telling me, anyway).

When I go on book signings, these Friends of Mine show up, even though it's been years since we've seen each other. They laugh with me. They tell me funny stories. They make their relatives come and buy my books. They get up early and watch me at 5:45am on the local newscast, listening to me talk about my books (again). They want me to be successful, they tell me they're proud of me, and they are sincere.
 
So hang on to your friends. You'll know who they are. Pick up the phone, or the mouse, and get in touch with someone from your past. It will surprise you to learn that they've been right beside you all along.

Here's a Chocolate Sundae Toast to all my Friends, wherever you may be.
 
--Bunkie

 

Bunkie On Vacation

Ok, sorry it's been a while since we've chatted. I've had extremely important things to do, like drink beer, eat chocolate, and vacate.

I just spent a very entertaining and heartwarming weekend with dear friends, and they are expecting me to write something about it. But it's still formulating in my brain, and I don't wish to let them down, when they are expecting something along the lines of Thomas Wolfe or Charles Dickens.

So...I'm off to Texas for more book tour stuff, and when I return, I'm sure my drivel will be much more enlightened, as I consider the time I spent with those dear friends after visiting the places where we endured high school and all its glories.

Stay tuned, patience is a virtue. One I don't personally practice, but I'm the owner of this blog, so I can do what I like.

Oh, and I hear Asheville is very nice this time of year, if the road's not washed out...