One Good Man

The summer between seventh and eighth grade I spent a few days with my girlfriend at her grandparents house in Maine. It was on a lake and I remember barely being able to swim because the water was so cold. But it was fun. We played Trivial Pursuit and ate beef stew ,which her grandfather made and to this day I think is the best I have ever tasted. That summer I had a crush. Well, I probably had a crush very summer what girl doesn't? But this summer stands out in particular. He had brown hair, a bit wavy, big smile, strong arms and he was just funny. My girlfriend and I talked about him but she had to break the news to me that he liked someone else. I hated those days. It was rough being thwarted when you were only 13. Of course there were many years ahead of thwarting but somehow those first couple when you are so young stay with you.
Anyway, as it turns out when we got to high school he asked me to the Homecoming dance. We went but for some reason that bit of whatever I had two summers ago didn't seem to be there. we were friends and remained so. When college came we stayed in touch. He sent letters to me in crushed beer cans, I sent letters on dainty stationary. He sent letters I had to turn the paper clockwise in order to read . I sent him cards by Amanda Bradley, embarrassing as that is to admit. We saw each other over school breaks and hung out with a whole group but never got around to dating. It just wasn't part of the plan.
After college we both went our separate ways and lost touch. About 6 years later I was at a Christmas party of a mutual friend and saw another mutual friend I hadn't seen in years. I was home for the holidays but at the time was living in South Carolina. Five months later,in early May, I got a phone call from my mother explaining that reg had called and wanted to reach me. She gave me his number because the reality was my mother wanted me home and here was a possible way to do it. She was sneaky like that. How is it that mothers always know best? She insisted I call him back, even after I explained I hadn't talked to him in years and was 900 miles away. She knew I was coming home in July and that I didn't have a plan. I called him back. A few days later he sent me a birthday card. My birthday is in February. I wrote back, on nice stationary.
Twelve years later we are celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary. It hardly seems possible. Of course it hardly seems possible that I am 40, have three kids and am considered by most to be a full blown adult.
Good thing I am married to someone who knows how to have fun,let go and test the boundaries of tact and decorum just enough to keep me guessing. I have watched him change from Teva wearing bachelor to a man who "travels on business". From someone who is not sure how to hold a newborn to someone who handles three kids with more grace and patience than anyone, myself included., possibly could. I have witnessed his tears of joy at the birth of our children and tears of sorrow when my mother passed away. He can make me laugh so hard my sides cramp or he can make me want to throw something at him. We like to consider him versatile.
A couple weeks ago my girlfriend emailed me to tell me at the end of her children's birthday party she found my husband lying in the Bounce House with our daughter , now 17 months old, jumping around him. She said the smile on his face was priceless. I didn't need a description. I could close my eyes and see it as clearly as I did when I was 13.

Friends

When I was a camp nurse, many years ago after I graduated from college, I had to conduct the evening vespers. Believe it or not I struggled with this. It was a church based camp but not so much that I was expected to give a sermon. Evening vespers had been mostly done by the director or assistant director and had some lesson that capped off the days activities, more or less. But since I had done more than just sit in my cabin waiting for the injured, tired and homesick, the assistant director thought I should also take part. I am not always much of a public speaker and you have to admit speaking to a group of tweens is not always that easy. It can be a tough crowd.

The night before it was my turn I was sitting in the camp kitchen with the cook , who was funny by my standards. We pretty much laughed each night while I sat having a cup of tea or coffee and he worked preparing the next days adventures in food, as he called it. I had one more friend who was the cook's assistant who was usually there as well. And we all laughed. I loved those evenings. I loved camp. This particular night it struck me how fascinating camp was. We were all from very different backgrounds. Some of us were out of college, some hadn't even gotten there yet. Some counselors were athletic and loud and some were motherly, gentle. I started thinking about all of them and why I liked each one, what they meant to me. The following night that is what my vesper was all about. It was about each person I had been working with for the past weeks and why I liked them. I then played Peter Gabriel's song. "Don't Give Up" . What can I say, sometimes I do have a flare for the dramatic. And it was a hit with all those tweens.

17 summers have past since then and I can say that I still use that vesper in my daily life. I use it to remind myself of the good people I am surrounded by. The ones who are athletic, the ones who are loud. The ones who make me laugh. The ones who inspire me to be better and the ones who inspire me to let things go. The friends I have had since I was a toddler and the ones I met just in the past year. The friends who have to come to me again after a pause in our friendship, for whatever the reason and the friends who never let our friendship pause. The friends whose expertise I call on to get me through aches and pains and child rearing. The friends who have picked up where my mother left off and the ones who live too far away to hug me in person. The friends who have been able to say I am sorry and the ones who can't quite put that into words.

In May , my husband and I attended a wedding of a very good friend and we were surrounded for the day by very good friends. At one time during the day I looked around me and realized how awesome and possibly how rare it is to remain friends for such a long time with so many people. All of them guys, by the way. Once my husband and I reconnected with him came this wonderful return of many guy friends from junior high and earlier, with whom there had been a pause. Now with them came wives and girlfriends who are now part of my camp of funny and fabulous friends, who are cherished for who they are and what they add to my life.

In August the camp will hold a reunion weekend. My husband asked if I would go. I am tempted, hoping to see some of those wonderful people I worked and lived with for a summer. The cook and his young assistant , who I know is now a father . Some of the couselors who were loud or motherly. To remember the nights sitting in a brightly lit kitchen with laughter and the warmth of summer all around me. It would be fun, although I am hoping though that I do not have to conduct vespers, my list of friends and why I love them would take too long.