Every week, I contemplate the past week of life in the valley. Sometimes a topic for this column is obvious — such as the recent smoke in the valley drifting down from the North Cascades’ fires. Other times, not so much. Sometimes the topic is solid and easy to write around facts. Then there are those topics that are nebulous, reflective — a little harder to put one’s finger on.
This past week, the topic of “friends” kept popping up. Five girlfriends from the horse-riding community went to Iceland to ride Icelandic ponies. A volunteer co-worker was heading to the oceanside with a group of her Tacoma friends to celebrate a 70th birthday of one of them and provide support for a recent divorce. A classmate’s wife posted about her 55th class reunion. She wrote, “I had a wonderful time catching up with so many friends. Time has passed, but it feels like yesterday.” My husband and his longtime high school friends have Zoom-talked for months about their upcoming spoof of a golf tournament (most don’t golf!) in memory of a classmate who died many years ago, way too soon.
One of my earliest friends, whom I have known since kindergarten, called me for some phone numbers. (Being our class archivist, I have the complete contact list.) Carol spoke of her recent move to the independent living section of an assisted living complex in Canby, Oregon. She bubbled with the same excitement I remember over a hopscotch game or a Barbie play time when talking about the morning coffee group followed by an exercise class. She is the first of my childhood friends to take the step of selling her house and making life easier. She also chuckled that there were so many “Carols” in the complex that she glued together her first name and middle name and added an “e” just for good measure and now is known as Carolanne. (So like Carol…)
The weekend view from Big Valley: The Sourdough Fire affected us even here, as its smoke rumbled up the valley.
One son reconnected with an old friend to play some tennis in Seattle after a long time since they played regularly. Another son spoke fondly of a new local friend who teaches him inuendo of the valley. A third son spoke of having a friend over for dinner. This same friend owns a classic Italian restaurant in North Beach, San Francisco. My last visit to the city, Kevin sat with us and ordered the best from his menu at no cost to us. I asked him how the two of them had met. He replied, “When Leif came into the restaurant as my new wine salesman, our eyes met, and we both knew we would be friends.” Sometimes it’s like that — an immediate connection that leads to a lifelong friend.
I loved Chapter 5 in Michelle O’Bama’s book “The Light We Carry.” She spoke about her “kitchen table of friends” and those who have a seat there — friends that she has accumulated throughout her life thus far, some old, some new, but all solid friends that can be relied upon. It was a reminder that “old” friends are to be savored, but “new” friends can find a chair at the table just as well.
My mom used to say, “You’ll only have two or three really good friends in your lifetime.” She had tons of people who admired her, but she clung to a few from different times in her life that she vouched for their loyal friendship. When I was a kid, I loved little books filled with treasured thoughts. My mom would buy them for me (most likely at the secondhand stores) when she saw them. Of course, I still have them. Three of them were about friendship. One titled “A Friend Is Someone Who Likes You” included these words: “Sometimes you don’t know who your friends are. Sometimes they are there all the time, but you walk right past them.”
Another of the little books “A Friend or Two” brought thoughts again of the recent tragic loss of Kierra Reichert. Her friend Caitlyn Cooley posted, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share my grief with the world, but I knew that they needed to hear it … Our friendship was a friendship I didn’t know existed and didn’t know I needed … I wholeheartedly feel like it’s my calling to make sure people knew the kind of person you were because you were someone worth knowing.”
“A Friend or Two:” A smile to give and a grief to bear/With a friend or two/A vale to cross and a hill to climb/With a friend or two.
