Friends

      Friends

Suzanne Marsh

What do you say about someone who has been your best friend for sixty-eight years. We have been through thick and thin together. We became friends when my parents moved from the city of Buffalo to the Town of Tonawanda. I was scared there would be no one my age to play with, as it turned out the neighbor next to my parents' house had two girls, the younger of the two became my friend. We did everything together. We used to go to the park at the foot of the street, waxing the slides so we could go down faster. Wax paper rubbed on steel has a way of sending one down a slide rather quickly. We would take sandwiches and be gone most of the day. There are so many things we did together, into our teenage years.

Basketball was always a favorite, at least of mine, we would play PIG by the hour. We used to have teams and played kickball in the middle of the street. We set up hurdles to jump over, while I was running track. I made the track team two years in a row. There was always something going on. We used to play hide and seek, red rover, hopscotch and one my mom taught us, potsie, she had learned to play that as a kid in Brooklyn.

She was studious, I was constantly in trouble for one infraction or another. We did however share a love for Nancy Drew, Judy Bolton, The Hardy Boys, and Cherry Ames. We would swap books. We had quite a set up for communicating with each other. Our bedrooms were directly opposite each other. We used to talk every night until a parent decided enough was enough. That became: “Good night Chet, goodnight, David, good night, Molly and Jilly.”

With a great deal of prayer, I made it out of grade school, however not before I played some really rotten tricks on the poor suffering nuns that taught. Jill went along with most of my stunts, it is a wonder I survived to eight grade. We, smuggled in a Guinea Pig which I had dutifully named “Charlie” after my favorite teacher. She loved it and laughed. The following year I snuck in a white Guinea Pig named Silverwood. Silverwood was not exactly friendly. I carefully placed him on the seat of a nun's chair. She went to sit down, instead found herself jumping up on her desk, screaming. I found myself in the principal’s office for not the first nor the last time. I did pick the wrong time to do this, I was supposed to run track the next day. They sent for the priest who ran the track team. He argued with the principal, he needed me more than I needed to be punished for my “crime” as the nun told it. Personally, I think Father had a good laugh after he found out what I did. Sometimes, even now I marvel at the fact that I survived my childhood and Jill survived my childhood. Good thing she was an “A” student!

I was a year ahead of Jill in school, while she finished eighth grade, I was a freshman in high school. Heaven help the nuns, my first year I was the one responsible for giving the principal more gray hairs than she already had. My, ah, reputation had proceeded me. I found myself hanging with the wrong crowd at the mount. I soon discovered boys; Jill was busy discovering books. My first year at the mount proved to be the harbinger of things to come. I was already the scourge of the nuns. My cousin Ann was a senior that year. Every time, without fail, the principal would ask me the same question: “why can’t you be more like Ann?” I wasn’t Ann, I was Molly.

The following September Jill arrived at the mount. She was studious, I was rebellious. Along about this time, I was caught in the cloister among my other infractions. The principal called me into her office, with an offer: “Either you leave at the end of this semester, or I call you mother.” I decided that it would be in my best interest to leave. I told my mother I did not wish to continue at the mount, and I was not going to CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). Thank heaven Jill did not tell her mother or mine for that matter. I left the mount that year, 1964. That summer I met a boy who was simply a boy. We walked to school the first day, after that he found himself in jail. Once I began in public school, as usual my reputation followed me for being at best an unruly student.

I met several girls I became friends with, one introduced me to my former husband. I called and told Jill about him. When she met him for the first time, she told me: “he is not what you think.”

I blew her off, I wish I had listened to her. I found myself pregnant at the ripe old age of seventeen, I was married on my eighteenth birthday. Jill stood up for me as my maid of honor. Three years later, I stood up for her, her matron of honor. She is Godmother to my three daughters; I don’t think there is anyone else I ever would have trusted except Jill.

Thirteen years later, I divorced my former husband. Jill, was happily married. She wanted to get together, but I just could not bring myself to see her again. I was angry, upset and worst of all betrayed. Those were emotions I kept hidden from Jill.

I met my present husband, two years later. Jill had asked us to a Christmas party. We began to talk more, she liked my husband, and made no bones about him being a much nicer guy than my ex.

Since that time, I have become a grandmother and great grandmother. Jill is a grandma. It is funny how things turn out. Jill and I remain friends to this day. Our lives are very different, she lives in California and I live in Texas. Jill became a physical therapist and I became a writer. She has travel all over the world, me, I have traveled all over the United States. We remain friends to this day and no doubt always will.