The best thing about Facebook, in my humble opinion, is catching up with people you really want to know about, but haven't a clue as to where they might be. Carol is one of those people. Last year, I happened to look her up on Facebook and to my delight, there she was. It has taken almost a year to see her, but with our trip to Michigan, she and I finally caught up.
Carol was one of just a handful of people that actually spoke to me on my first day of ninth grade. I was a newcomer to the city, and a poorly dressed one at that. What I mean to say is that, just like now, I was fashion challenged. To this day I remember the blue skirt and shirt, and white cotton sweater I wore. I felt uncomfortable in it, which probably made the whole ensemble even worse. If you feel awkward in what you are wearing, there is absolutely no way that you can pull it off, you know? Well, that first morning, when I walked into the cafetorium (Cafeteria and auditorium all in one? What the heck is that?) Carol was the bright spot in an otherwise dull group of people. She had a 1000 watt smile, as they say, and the nerve to say hello to the new girl. Thank goodness she did.
High school was a bad time for me. I never felt as though I fit in. Part of that was being a newcomer with the wrong name. Someone at that school already had our last name, and it wasn't a very common one. For whatever reason, a new group of people having that same name just didn't sit well with anyone. Neither did a freshman taking Biology or French II (this was a small town high school after all, for those of you that don't know). But Carol (and in turn another friendly yet more hesitant soul named Tasha) didn't care about any of that. They both allowed me to be me, and liked me for it (or, in spite of it!).
Carol was my saving grace. The four years of high school stretched interminably for me, but spending time with Carol and calling her my friend kept me sane. I despised walking in the doors of that school, but knowing that Carol was there helped me do so every day. We had classes together, joined some of the same clubs, and hung out on the weekends. We talked about classes, jobs, boys, dreams, and colleges. We ate fast food (probably too much), drove around the city, and saw movies. We did other more irreverent things, too, and to this day, some of them are unbeknownst to my parents. Ah, the memories.
One of the best things about Carol was that she called the shots as she saw them. She wasn't hurtful, but she was honest. If you didn't know that about her, it might surprise you. But for the most part, that characteristic just made me laugh. Oh how I wanted to be like her! I had trouble expressing myself, except in writing, but writing didn't help with making friends and influencing people. And unlike myself, most people liked Carol. Funny thing, though...she didn't care if you did or didn't. Carol was a one of a kind, a diamond in the rough, a real gem, someone we should all have tried to emulate. I know I never told her any of this, and I bet no one else did, either.
Well, I could go on, but I won't. Carol and I played a bit of phone tag 2 days before Christmas, but we managed to set up a time to meet. Some of the descriptions and tidbits I was telling Tim about Carol made him say, "She really doesn't sound at all like you." When I thought about it, though, I realized he was wrong. I just couldn't do Carol justice in the few seconds I had before I ran out the door, so I didn't even try. I just hoped that Carol was still Carol. And if so, we'd have a great time.
When she opened the door, I swear I could have been in a time warp looking at a high school version of Carol, save for the big hair (she has long, sleek, straight hair now). Pink cheeks and her 1000 watt smile greeted me, along with a big hug. We sat for the next couple of hours and shot the breeze, much like we did so long ago. Along with drinking two diet Cokes (hair might change but apparently, favorite beverages do not) she told me that she had lost her mother 2 years ago, and that her father is having trouble adjusting. She told me that her relationship with her brother isn't as tight as it was in high school, that she loves her job, her kids and her husband. She isn't thrilled with living where they do, but her Dad depends on her and the kids. And the kids now depend on her Dad. She just can't see changing things right now. Overall, Carol is happy. I was thrilled to hear it -- who could ask for anything more?
On the drive back to my parents, I thanked the good Lord for Carol. I thanked him for allowing me to meet her back in 1987, and I thanked him for helping me find the time to meet up with her. So many times these days I think, "I am too busy to do X." I could have been too busy, but in my heart, I wanted to see Carol. I reflected on the ways in which we are different, but also on the many things we have in common. Most importantly, our morals and values and the way we are raising our children are so inline, you can tell why we were such great friends in high school.
Thinking of my relationship with Carol has made me think of other relationships I've had in my life, some of which remain strong, others that seem connected by simply a thread. These relationships will likely be discussed here, as I walk down memory lane. I'll try to be discreet, but if you find yourself among any of my next posts and you don't like being there, please let me know!
Carol was one of just a handful of people that actually spoke to me on my first day of ninth grade. I was a newcomer to the city, and a poorly dressed one at that. What I mean to say is that, just like now, I was fashion challenged. To this day I remember the blue skirt and shirt, and white cotton sweater I wore. I felt uncomfortable in it, which probably made the whole ensemble even worse. If you feel awkward in what you are wearing, there is absolutely no way that you can pull it off, you know? Well, that first morning, when I walked into the cafetorium (Cafeteria and auditorium all in one? What the heck is that?) Carol was the bright spot in an otherwise dull group of people. She had a 1000 watt smile, as they say, and the nerve to say hello to the new girl. Thank goodness she did.
High school was a bad time for me. I never felt as though I fit in. Part of that was being a newcomer with the wrong name. Someone at that school already had our last name, and it wasn't a very common one. For whatever reason, a new group of people having that same name just didn't sit well with anyone. Neither did a freshman taking Biology or French II (this was a small town high school after all, for those of you that don't know). But Carol (and in turn another friendly yet more hesitant soul named Tasha) didn't care about any of that. They both allowed me to be me, and liked me for it (or, in spite of it!).
Carol was my saving grace. The four years of high school stretched interminably for me, but spending time with Carol and calling her my friend kept me sane. I despised walking in the doors of that school, but knowing that Carol was there helped me do so every day. We had classes together, joined some of the same clubs, and hung out on the weekends. We talked about classes, jobs, boys, dreams, and colleges. We ate fast food (probably too much), drove around the city, and saw movies. We did other more irreverent things, too, and to this day, some of them are unbeknownst to my parents. Ah, the memories.
One of the best things about Carol was that she called the shots as she saw them. She wasn't hurtful, but she was honest. If you didn't know that about her, it might surprise you. But for the most part, that characteristic just made me laugh. Oh how I wanted to be like her! I had trouble expressing myself, except in writing, but writing didn't help with making friends and influencing people. And unlike myself, most people liked Carol. Funny thing, though...she didn't care if you did or didn't. Carol was a one of a kind, a diamond in the rough, a real gem, someone we should all have tried to emulate. I know I never told her any of this, and I bet no one else did, either.
Well, I could go on, but I won't. Carol and I played a bit of phone tag 2 days before Christmas, but we managed to set up a time to meet. Some of the descriptions and tidbits I was telling Tim about Carol made him say, "She really doesn't sound at all like you." When I thought about it, though, I realized he was wrong. I just couldn't do Carol justice in the few seconds I had before I ran out the door, so I didn't even try. I just hoped that Carol was still Carol. And if so, we'd have a great time.
When she opened the door, I swear I could have been in a time warp looking at a high school version of Carol, save for the big hair (she has long, sleek, straight hair now). Pink cheeks and her 1000 watt smile greeted me, along with a big hug. We sat for the next couple of hours and shot the breeze, much like we did so long ago. Along with drinking two diet Cokes (hair might change but apparently, favorite beverages do not) she told me that she had lost her mother 2 years ago, and that her father is having trouble adjusting. She told me that her relationship with her brother isn't as tight as it was in high school, that she loves her job, her kids and her husband. She isn't thrilled with living where they do, but her Dad depends on her and the kids. And the kids now depend on her Dad. She just can't see changing things right now. Overall, Carol is happy. I was thrilled to hear it -- who could ask for anything more?
On the drive back to my parents, I thanked the good Lord for Carol. I thanked him for allowing me to meet her back in 1987, and I thanked him for helping me find the time to meet up with her. So many times these days I think, "I am too busy to do X." I could have been too busy, but in my heart, I wanted to see Carol. I reflected on the ways in which we are different, but also on the many things we have in common. Most importantly, our morals and values and the way we are raising our children are so inline, you can tell why we were such great friends in high school.
Thinking of my relationship with Carol has made me think of other relationships I've had in my life, some of which remain strong, others that seem connected by simply a thread. These relationships will likely be discussed here, as I walk down memory lane. I'll try to be discreet, but if you find yourself among any of my next posts and you don't like being there, please let me know!
Comments