To Hug, Kiss and Love

Psychologists say if you have a friend for seven years, she will be a friend for life.

I've had a friend for 28 years; since Pre-Kindergarten. What would a psychologist say about that? I'm guessing that we will still be calling each other besties as we compare food rations and Bingo games in our nursing home of choice at the end of time.

While I hate qualifying friends with a good, better or best status, I do like labeling some as legendary. And Rebecca is just that. A famous piece of fabric in not only my life - but in so many others.

Legend has it that she was born in the back seat of a car; she came out blue, but with the help of her Dad, took her first breath of air. She arrived in my life though when we entered Mrs. Stephen's classroom for the first time. We shared a love of peanut butter and jelly, Mrs. Chitman's ballet class, and Eric, the cutest four-year old in our class. Several years later, we shared hymnals, maroon blazers, Grandparents and Special Friends Days, Turkey Bowls, dulcimers, school plays, gym uniforms, crushes, and crashes.

My fear of dogs, in particular Doberman Pinschers, came from her. The ironically named Princess was Rebecca's canine compatriot growing up. Princess ate out of the garbage, bit Caroline Potter, and was my worst nightmare. I had to barter before play dates: at the same time I would ring the doorbell at her house, I would hear Rebecca yell, 'quick, put Princess outside.'  

Rebecca was host to more sleepovers than a Hilton Hotel. From second grade on her house on Maple Ave was THE party house. By 1:00 AM there would be girls, zipped up in sleeping bags, covering every square inch of her house. There were more fluid rules at her house too; there was parental guidance so we got to watch Dirty Dancing, jump on trampolines without spotters, sit on the roof, and drink champagne after Prom.

Rebecca saved me from more awkward moments in life by being as candid as possible. I covered up pimples, got cheese crackers out of my braces, fixed my hair, chewed pieces of gum, and changed ill fitting outfits with Rebecca's coaxing. And while my self-confidence was always rattled for a minute or two, I walked away looking better than ever.

Ardmore Roller Rink never had a better skater; Trees Hall never had a more elegant swimmer. Longue Vue never had a more glamorous golfer; Shadyside never had a more determined power walker. Life never had a more hopeless romantic, aggressive cuddler, or endless believer in the kind of love that lasts throughout the ages. And I never had a more loyal friend. 

This weekend, Rebecca, my legendary 28-year partner in crime, got her fairy tale ending as she joined her better half in marriage. She vowed to hug him.
Kiss him.
And love him all the days of her life.

And Tom, as her lifelong friend, I can tell you that when she makes a promise, she never breaks it.

Congrats Tom and Rebecca! I love you both so much.

Lo.  

Also ... Mary went to the pool this weekend. And the photos were pretty cute. So by the power vested in me, I'm annexing her to this blog post. 

10 Years Later

When we weren't studying, playing lacrosse, or making bad decisions in the wee hours of the morning, we were laughing. In the den of our house, around the legendary wheel of smoked Gouda whose owner has yet to be rightfully acknowledged, my teammates and best friends would recite the funniest first-hand accounts of life as student athletes, starring none other than the nine of us.

There seemed to be an endless supply of comedic sketches due to an endless supply of material. While we loved laughing at each other's expense, you knew that every rotation would turn the dial your way. From the time that Abby awkwardly put her head on Kristen's shoulder during Freshman orientation - we learned how to laugh at ourselves.

Do you remember ... how about ... no, the best was ...
That time Kristen had so much trouble doing the bear crawl at practice.
That time Abby fell asleep during coach's pre-game speech.
'Get OUT!'
Bridget's stink eye.
Zoolander. (I was in Rome for that one.)
Kinnik's speed and everyone else missing their time.
The end line.
That time Meredith preached, 'who's coming with me?!"
And how we all felt the repercussions.
The hours some of us shared playing permanent connector as everyone else did drills.
Zoolander. (Still don't remember.)
Troop #702.
Mia's skyline Chili dip.
Kassen's brownies.
Pat, Barb, Ellen and Prudence.
That time I kicked the Harlem Globetrotters out of our house.
That time I kicked Julius Jones out of our house.
Zoolander. (Still in Rome.)
Fro-yo kegstands.
Regular kegstands.
That time that I went to bed.
That other time that I went to bed.
That time that Meredith woke me up.
Bad hair.
Little to no makeup.
Butch outfits.
The fact that no one cared because we were friends that only saw the inside.
By the time our tare was over, we would be crying in hysteria.

While the majority of the time was spent humorously rehashing the past, there were more reflective moments in our living room too - times to ponder the future. About life outside the bubble of our pristine campus; careers off the lacrosse field; the guys we would meet in bars other than Finnegans and restaurants other than Taco Bell; and new places to call home. We thought about five years down the road. It was nearly visible. We never had a ten year plan.


This past weekend, at Notre Dame's annual Reunion, my best friends and I celebrated ten years since we graduated from the classrooms, fields, weight rooms, dining halls, dive bars, slum housing, emerging technology, and sweat pants of college. Ten years seemed forever away in 2004. And no one would have guessed how cute the next generation of jokesters would turn out.  

Inevitably, the four plus ten years of material produced more storytelling this weekend and we again found ourselves shedding tears of laughter.

But with the predictable came the unfamiliar as well: feeding little mouths before we fed ours, passing on a beer or two until later, wearing white, ordering from Politos at a more normal hour, embracing new found sophisticated palettes, finding more maternal ways to burn calories, and taking a more sober look at just how disgusting the Backer really is.

 

Ten years later, we grew up. Matured. Lost the lax weight. Strolled instead of strutted. Got a little more elegant. Became even more legendary in our own minds. But the unbreakable bond we share has never faded.

When I got home yesterday afternoon, I pulled the camera out again. Ten years ago, I hoped for something along the lines of what life has handed me today: a home as happy as the one that I was moving out of in 2004. In took the support of amazing friends to get here. And I will forever thank them for that.

To ten times ten more years of friendship, reunions, and memory-making. 

Lo. 

Smoked Baba Ganoush 

Serves 10 

Ingredients: 

4 medium eggplants 

8 garlic cloves, cut into thinner pieces  

1/4 olive oil 

1/2 cup tahini

Lemon, juiced  

Salt

Directions: 

Stud the eggplants with slices of garlic by cutting slits into the eggplant and stuffing the garlic pieces into them. 

Light the coals on a grill. When hot, place the eggplants directly on the coals and place lid on the grill. Cook for 20-25 minutes until the eggplants are soft and tender and the outsides are charred. Remove from heat and let cool until able to handle with your hands. 

Remove about 80% of the charred skin from the eggplant. It should easily peel away. Place remains of eggplants, including garlic which should still be there, in food processor along with oil oil, tahini, lemon juice and salt to taste. Blend till it becomes a smooth puree. 

Serve with toasted naan, chicken kebobs, and Greek salad.