Friendship.

Friendship isnt about whom you have known the longest.

lts about who came, and never left your side.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my parent!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.


I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ..... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.
They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)


MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART! MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART FOREVER AND EVER!

A STORY ABOUT FRIENDS.

Luther had been home from the war nearly four months, now, and worked at
The Carnation Milk plant in Mt. Vernon where his wife, Jenny, worked.

This morning he was in the little Miller cafe next door to the post
Office waiting for the mail to be 'put up'. Sitting across from him in
The booth was his old friend, Fred Hill. They were discussing the war
Which was still going on in the Pacific Theatre. Recruitment posters
Still lined the walls of the little cafe.

Fred had not been in the service, because when the war started in 1941,
His parents had been in very poor health; his father with a bad heart,
And his mother with cancer. He was needed at home to care for them and
Operate the farm. His parents had since died, and the farm was now
His—his and Maggie's.

When Luther, Fred's best friend since childhood had flown over Miller in
The B-17, and when the bodies of the Hobbs boys and Billie Martin had
Been shipped home, and when Perry came home with hooks where his hands
Should have been, Fred felt guilty. He felt he had not done his part for
The war effort, and in his own eyes, he was diminished.

But today, it was Luther who seemed depressed. Fred asked him what was
Bothering him. 'You seem down in the dumps, today, Luther,' he said. 'I
Can't see what could be botherin' you. You came through the war without
A scratch, you got a beautiful wife and a baby on the way, you got a
Good job, what's the problem?'

'Jenny's mother is in bad shape,' said Luther, 'We're going to have to
Take her in, and with the baby coming we don't have the room.'

'Can't build a room on?' asked Fred.

'No lumber available,' said Luther. 'I've tried here, Mt. Vernon,
Springfield, Joplin, and there won't be any more shipments for the
Duration. Who knows how long that will be?'

'Tried Will's sawmill?'

'Yeah, but he just saws oak, and it's green. The baby'll be here in
August, and we can't wait for the lumber to dry. Besides, you can't
Build a whole room out of oak, anyway.'

'Wouldn't want to,' said Fred, 'Reckon the mail's up?'

'Probably.'

The two young men left the cafe and went into the post office next door.
Buford Patten, the postmaster, had raised the door to the service
Window, signaling that the mail was in the boxes. Luther and Fred
Retrieved their mail and left—Luther to work at Mt. Vernon, and Fred
Back to the farm.

That evening, Fred finished the milking and sat on the front porch with
Maggie. 'Days are getting longer,' he said, 'Man could get half a day's
Work done after five o'clock.'

'Better put your Pa's car up,' said Maggie, 'Radio says rain tonight.'

Fred's father had bought a new 1941 Ford just before his first heart
Attack, and the car was now Fred’s. He had built a new garage for it
Just before Christmas, and tonight he congratulated himself on getting
It built before the lumber ran out. He didn't even know it had, until
Luther told him this morning.

Fred drove the car into the new garage and latched the door. He walked
Back around the house to the front porch. Something was nagging at his
Mind, but he couldn't define it. He shook it off and sat on the porch
With Maggie until darkness fell. They could see heat lightning in the
West, and the wind started to rise. They went in the house to listen to
The news of the war on the radio, and shortly went to bed.

The next morning, Fred again drove his pickup into Miller for the mail.
The air was fresh and clear now, the rain having washed it clean. The
Sun was shining, and he felt good. When he reached the cafe, Luther was
There ahead of him.

'Still haven't found any lumber, I guess?'

'No, I asked everybody at work, and nobody knows of any. I don't know
What we'll do.'

Now the nagging in Fred's mind defined itself. 'I found the lumber for
You,' he said.

'You did? Where?' Luther was delighted.

'Fella I know. He'll let you have it free, you bein' a veteran and all.
He doesn't seem to want you to know who he is, so I'll have to haul it
In for you. It's good lumber, fir and pine, cut different lengths and
Got nails in it, but that's no problem. Tell you what, you get your
Foundation poured, and I'll bring you a pickup load everyday and help
You build it. We'll have it done before the baby gets here.'

'That's a friend for you,' Luther said to himself, as he drove to Mt.
Vernon. That evening he came home with sacks of cement in his pickup.

Luther dug and poured the foundation, and when it was ready for the
footings, he told Fred.

'Fine,' said Fred, 'I'll bring the first load over and be there when you
get home from work.'

Fred appeared every evening with a load of lumber, and the two men
worked until it was too dark to see. Sometimes Maggie came too, and the
women sat in the house listening to the radio or talking about babies or
Jenny's ailing mother, their sentences punctuated by the sound of the
hammers outside.

Over the next few weeks the new room took shape and was finished and
roofed. 'Where did you get the shingles?' asked Luther.

'Same fella,' answered Fred. 'He's got all kinds of stuff.'

Luther didn't push. Lots of older folks liked to help out the young
veterans anonymously. It was common.

It was done! The women fixed the room up inside, and moved Jenny's
mother in. The men went back about their business.

At supper one evening, Luther told Jenny he would like to do something
nice for Fred and Maggie, since they had been so helpful with the new
room. 'I know,' said Jenny, brightly, 'Maggie likes those big wooden
lawn chairs like Aunt Birdie has in her lawn. Why not get them a couple
of those?'

'Good idea,' agreed Luther, and the next Saturday he bought a couple at
Callison's hardware and loaded them into his pickup.

When he got out to Fred's farm, there was no one home, Fred and Maggie
having gone into Springfield, shopping. 'That's ok,' Luther thought,
'I'll just put them in the garage in case it rains.'

He drove around the house and into the driveway that led to Fred's new
garage.

The garage was gone. Only the foundation remained to show where it had been.

Luther put the chairs on the front porch and drove home, tears in his eyes.

The two men are now in their mid-seventies, and are still the best of
friends. They never spoke of the incident. How could they?

There was nothing to say.