Last night my husband and I went out with very dear true friends, lets call them Tax Babe and Legal Eagle. (D does that suit you?) Anyhow, they are the kind of friends you don't see every day but you know they are there, and will be there. Tax babe is my touchstone. She can put into words all the pithy, arch remarks that I am thinking without sounding obnoxious or snotty (like I would) and is so ....just on, you know? She is also like me in that she finds certain things and people ludicrous, hilarious. I usually fall into the same hearty laugh at the same time she does. We do not touch base everyday and I am grateful actually. First, it is so much fun to catch up when we do and second, I kind of suck at the girlfriend thing. I get distracted, or busy at work and I don't "check in". I have a couple of gal pals who have dropped me for this very reason. I can't say I didn't warn them. I am awful at remembering birthdays or at calling to check in. I have one friend so fixated on her child that she calls to constantly interpret what is going on for them socially. This is when you realize, high school never ended for some people. While I tried to remain friends, she really was into me "proving" myself and remembering her detailed conversations etc. I simply couldn't do it. It just wasn't healthy in my book. I finally realized that reciprocation in friendship with her would only mean trading miseries, and what kind of friendship is that? I don't want a seat at the pity party anymore. I want to celebrate happiness and life.
Then there are the girls who are totally insulted if you go out as couples without them...but they often go out without you and your husband and think nothing of it. They make a big to do about what parties they have been invited to, or what they are wearing or whatever. Part of plans with them is a contest to see who will arrive later. My husband and I started dinner once when the other two couples showed up over an hour late! There are some girls who are always late for everything. The message is, my time is more important than yours. But I am not buying.
In all these instances, I can be social. But these are not true friendships and over time you learn who is real and who will disappoint. I told Tax Babe this in one of our earliest conversations. I think she was kind of appalled but also took it as a challenge.
My point is this, I simply do not own the Girls Handbook. I never got it. On the day most Moms taught their daughters always to remember their friends birthdays, I was not around. When they passed on the secret handshake of confidence among women, the ability to pass gossip at will, to spin a conversation or to know how to always be "in style", I was not aware. Of course, my Mom is pretty much the same way. She is more of a "loner" among women. Interesting for a woman who went to Smith College. I was never in a sorority or a women's acapella group like my sisters. I enjoy the company of men and usually am talking with the boy groups at dinner parties. This is not to say I don't have women friends. I do--actually I guess I have a lot of what I would consider acquaintances. But I do believe that you only have a handful of "true friends", the kind you would put your life in danger to save.
We had a touch of that around 9/11. We had to think about who we would call to pick up our children when we were caught in NYC. I wondered who would even think about our kids, separated from their working mom in a crisis. We have a nanny and I knew they were safe, but it did cross my mind. Then there was the anthrax scare. (Don't you wonder about that one?) Anyhow, they said the drug Cipro would be the answer but it was hard to get. Of course all the Type A women in my town got prescriptions, "just in case" but two of my so-called friends got them and didn't tell anyone else when and where to get them. I hadn't even thought about it. Likewise my clueless friend T who said, don't worry about it. "If I get some you can have it, and if you get some you will share it too." And that was the birth of what my husband and I call the "Cipro friends" which is basically a true friend.
Anyway, back to Tax Babe and Legal Eagle. LE is so great at choosing restaurants that we always let him pick. He chose a great place in Tribecca called The Harrison. It is next to Tribecca Bar and Grill, or whatever it is called. It is fab. We were talking with TB and LE about how she had to take steroids for something and she felt she gained weight. He husband said, "you really can't tell honey because the top half of your body is fine, but you know, you always gain it on the bottom." Everything stopped, she looked at me and I looked at her and we both broke up laughing! How could he not have learned after 20 years of marriage not to break the cardinal rule of husband's ettiquette--"Honey you always look great!' "No, dear, you do not look fat it that dress!" "sweetie, did you lose weight?" Or run away! But never ever agree that your wife gained anything but a smile and a higher IQ! BTW, my perfect husband also made some similar remark later in the evening, pointing out that the Boys Handbook clearly states, never learn from the earlier gaffs of your brothers, brother.
Anyhow, I have a history with Tax Babe. She is the one I raced strollers downhill with in Central Park. She is the one that would roll her eyes the minute anyone said "Oh isn't he sweet!" And when she was pregnant, I fear for the person that reached out to touch her belly! She has mastered the art of how to do the most work in the least time at work. Someone asked her about her daughter at a Bar Mitzvah once....they were commenting on her beauty, and TB looked up sweetly and without any hint of sarcasm and said, "well yes, and we are hoping she will marry well."
I might not see her all the time, or even call her...for that matter. She was never in a sorority, and she really doesn't care to much to be in a group...nice but not essential is what I would imagine she would say. She is a loving friend, as is her lovely spouse. But she is like me. She never got the Girl Handbook either.
And Tax Babe...this only took about a half and hour, so relax!
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Train Gang
When I first thought about beginning to write, I was talking to a friend on the train. We agreed you could probably write a wonderful book about all of the people we meet commuting through the years and all of the lives and stories that intersect. And I sure love a great story, which is why I suppose, I never sit alone, or with my husband (who would much rather read (snore) ). I sit in the "facing seats". And that has made all the difference.
When you sit in the "facing seats" on our train it means that you won't necessarily have peace and quiet. Occasionally the grumpy person who sits in our proximity learns that the hard way, but generally it is the unwritten rule of commuting life, that if you sit directly facing another human being, you will be social. Many of us have our own little clusters that have ridden together for years.
I first learning the phenomenon when I was a very young law student working at a firm and commuting alone for the summer from Long Island to my parent's home. I was befriended by a bunch of folks much older than I. They all lived where I did, the end of the line. We were the first ones on the train, and the last to leave. That line had some hard-bitten gamblers too. The same moving poker game had been going on for years. The guys would get on the train in NYC and take down the big poster advertising whatever, turn it over in their laps and begin the game. The money would be tucked into the corners. There was lots of swearing and smoke. (Cigarettes were allowed back then). Commuting was the great equalizer. There were union men and CEOs and many millionaires. You could just get home so much faster on the train than the Long Island Expressway.
There was even a guy whose wife went on Oprah with her Mom to talk about their relationship and how that left him, the husband, as a third wheel. Oprah was a lot like Maury back then. And there were a bunch of sweet people who all had stories. At that point, mostly men, who worked hard and played hard and trekked into "the City" (because anyone from NY knows there is only one) to support their families. Soon the summer was over. They had a party for me. Someone brought 3 thermoses of coffee and the conductor ( a woman) made a coffee cake, and they all wished me well and I returned to law school.
Later I began to commute to NYC myself as a grown woman. The ghosts of the old card games and cigarettes were long gone but the stories were still there. It was a different train line but a popular route. I got to know a couple of women on the line. One of them, I will call her Suzie, met me right after my youngest son was born. Through the years she has always offered me wise counsel. I have followed behind her through the years of childrearing, childcare, working and finding out how to put things that are important first. We rarely socialize outside of the train, but we do know much of each other's lives. I hope I have brightened her day sometimes, and knowing her has definitely enriched mine.
There is also E, who is a great wife and mother. She is a career woman all the way, and yet is so sweet and caring and frets about her children in college. She and her husband have a love and partnership that is one that I admire and she is a very genuine person, who truly means well for those who deserve it. She believes in our community, global and local.
Yet another is a top banker and has a wry smile and sly joke for all occasions. She wears the shoes of a nun but is anything but. We tease her about the shoes, knowing they are only on so she can make a mad dash to her office. She taught me about acceptance of the nature and character of friends and family. She is beautiful, but has no idea, and truly could not care less about the outside of the package. She works incredibly hard and used to travel all the time. I love that I see her at night on the train with a beer.
We also have an artist and teacher. She regales us with stories of the college and her many jobs after hours. She moved to town when I did and we looked at the same houses. Our weight has fluctuated at the same time up and down and we even bought our dogs at the same time. She and I will disconnect for months and then reconnect like we saw each other the day before. Every time our lives intersect we find out that we have each been crossing paths some other way in what we have been doing.
There are also people from other stops who have retired, or even passed away. We were remembering our friend Marianne. I met her the night the train hit a car and we were all stranded for hours. We had cell phones (it was not the norm then) and passed them around so everyone could call their families. And we told our stories. I had overheard hers for a year before we met. She had been married twice before and she was about to marry for true love the third time around. He rode the train with us too. They were so in love. She was one of those beauties, around 50 but you would swear she was 35. Long blonde hair and a passion for cashmere and other fine things. She worked selling luxury consumer goods. We had met as couples off the train for dinner. A year or so later she was coughing a lot on the train and we urged her to check it out. Turned out to be lung cancer. A few short months later she was gone. She wouldn't let us visit. She didn't want any of us to see her without her beauty. We went to her funeral and her wake, a group of us. Her husband saw us too. He will never be the same. He really never rode the train again.
We had our own train wake. We took up two sides of the "facing seats" on the 6:29. And two more rows besides. It was me and my banker friend and a bunch of others. We got beer and blood orange margaritas and chips and had a party in her honor. She would have approved.
We know each others stories and lives, we wait for the sequel the next day or week. Sometimes these "strangers" know more about us than our own family members. These are the people who give us counsel, humor and offer up their wonderful ideas. Sometimes we really just read a book or a newspaper and don't really listen in to the conversations. Now I am one of the "older women" and I have met some of the younger moms trying to balance the two to four year old set and their jobs, families, homes, parents etc. It brings me back to those days.
The train really never stops. We all commute from one place to another, from one life to another. The destination may be work or it may be home. I get off on a spring day like the other day, and we all call out to each other to have a great evening, or weekend or whatever. We join the larger group of folks up the stairs and call out to a few more friendly faces.
When you sit in the "facing seats" on our train it means that you won't necessarily have peace and quiet. Occasionally the grumpy person who sits in our proximity learns that the hard way, but generally it is the unwritten rule of commuting life, that if you sit directly facing another human being, you will be social. Many of us have our own little clusters that have ridden together for years.
I first learning the phenomenon when I was a very young law student working at a firm and commuting alone for the summer from Long Island to my parent's home. I was befriended by a bunch of folks much older than I. They all lived where I did, the end of the line. We were the first ones on the train, and the last to leave. That line had some hard-bitten gamblers too. The same moving poker game had been going on for years. The guys would get on the train in NYC and take down the big poster advertising whatever, turn it over in their laps and begin the game. The money would be tucked into the corners. There was lots of swearing and smoke. (Cigarettes were allowed back then). Commuting was the great equalizer. There were union men and CEOs and many millionaires. You could just get home so much faster on the train than the Long Island Expressway.
There was even a guy whose wife went on Oprah with her Mom to talk about their relationship and how that left him, the husband, as a third wheel. Oprah was a lot like Maury back then. And there were a bunch of sweet people who all had stories. At that point, mostly men, who worked hard and played hard and trekked into "the City" (because anyone from NY knows there is only one) to support their families. Soon the summer was over. They had a party for me. Someone brought 3 thermoses of coffee and the conductor ( a woman) made a coffee cake, and they all wished me well and I returned to law school.
Later I began to commute to NYC myself as a grown woman. The ghosts of the old card games and cigarettes were long gone but the stories were still there. It was a different train line but a popular route. I got to know a couple of women on the line. One of them, I will call her Suzie, met me right after my youngest son was born. Through the years she has always offered me wise counsel. I have followed behind her through the years of childrearing, childcare, working and finding out how to put things that are important first. We rarely socialize outside of the train, but we do know much of each other's lives. I hope I have brightened her day sometimes, and knowing her has definitely enriched mine.
There is also E, who is a great wife and mother. She is a career woman all the way, and yet is so sweet and caring and frets about her children in college. She and her husband have a love and partnership that is one that I admire and she is a very genuine person, who truly means well for those who deserve it. She believes in our community, global and local.
Yet another is a top banker and has a wry smile and sly joke for all occasions. She wears the shoes of a nun but is anything but. We tease her about the shoes, knowing they are only on so she can make a mad dash to her office. She taught me about acceptance of the nature and character of friends and family. She is beautiful, but has no idea, and truly could not care less about the outside of the package. She works incredibly hard and used to travel all the time. I love that I see her at night on the train with a beer.
We also have an artist and teacher. She regales us with stories of the college and her many jobs after hours. She moved to town when I did and we looked at the same houses. Our weight has fluctuated at the same time up and down and we even bought our dogs at the same time. She and I will disconnect for months and then reconnect like we saw each other the day before. Every time our lives intersect we find out that we have each been crossing paths some other way in what we have been doing.
There are also people from other stops who have retired, or even passed away. We were remembering our friend Marianne. I met her the night the train hit a car and we were all stranded for hours. We had cell phones (it was not the norm then) and passed them around so everyone could call their families. And we told our stories. I had overheard hers for a year before we met. She had been married twice before and she was about to marry for true love the third time around. He rode the train with us too. They were so in love. She was one of those beauties, around 50 but you would swear she was 35. Long blonde hair and a passion for cashmere and other fine things. She worked selling luxury consumer goods. We had met as couples off the train for dinner. A year or so later she was coughing a lot on the train and we urged her to check it out. Turned out to be lung cancer. A few short months later she was gone. She wouldn't let us visit. She didn't want any of us to see her without her beauty. We went to her funeral and her wake, a group of us. Her husband saw us too. He will never be the same. He really never rode the train again.
We had our own train wake. We took up two sides of the "facing seats" on the 6:29. And two more rows besides. It was me and my banker friend and a bunch of others. We got beer and blood orange margaritas and chips and had a party in her honor. She would have approved.
We know each others stories and lives, we wait for the sequel the next day or week. Sometimes these "strangers" know more about us than our own family members. These are the people who give us counsel, humor and offer up their wonderful ideas. Sometimes we really just read a book or a newspaper and don't really listen in to the conversations. Now I am one of the "older women" and I have met some of the younger moms trying to balance the two to four year old set and their jobs, families, homes, parents etc. It brings me back to those days.
The train really never stops. We all commute from one place to another, from one life to another. The destination may be work or it may be home. I get off on a spring day like the other day, and we all call out to each other to have a great evening, or weekend or whatever. We join the larger group of folks up the stairs and call out to a few more friendly faces.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Memory Keeper
Years ago, gosh, decades ago, in High School, I had two best friends. One of them was Protestant and beautiful thin and blonde. Her hair had to be swept to the side or she would literally sit on it. Her jeans were always beautifully patched and sewn in the style of the time. She listened to classical music and played the flute. From the green coolness of her bedroom she looked out of her too-wise -for-her-years-eyes and could easily hurl the best, most accurate, sarcastic appraisals of our high school times and I loved her for it. She lived in one of the most beautiful homes I have ever seen, with mahogany trim. It had the perfect entry for a Christmas tree, though they always had it in the living room. We shared Christmas holidays, lots of "firsts" and all the horrors of high school.
The other was raven haired and attractive in a way none of us really understood. She had a certain charisma, a way of influencing people. She was Catholic. She was always tempting fate. She started out in little ways. She grew pot plants on her window sill. When her mother realized what they were, she vacuumed up the leaves. Neither of them said a word about it. Later in her life she was always part of a strong group, and never was just a member of a cult-like group, but was the leader of it. We shared Easter. We shared boyfriends. We shared our other best friend. She convinced us to join the chess club. The boys there would love us, she said.
And I guess I seem myself as the "stocky" brunette. But that can't be true. I was a figure skater and skated hours every day. I wasn't much over 110 pounds at 5'4". I am Jewish and shared my holidays with both of my friends. They came to Seder, to celebrate Hanukkah. Through the years many memories fade. I haven't thought about many of them. All three of us liked to write. We wrote long letters to one another. I have always had a fantasy that I would write a book about those times. I lost track of those two women. I moved to Georgia, one of us was in Africa as a missionary (I told you I have a great book here) and the other lived in NYC. I guess I always wondered if they kept my letters too. I wondered if we shared the same memories.
Years later, my path has crossed with one of them. She has inspired me to write again. Who would have thought, over 30 years ago, I would be here at this keyboard. In front of a machine that only a few (the Mathletes and Chess boys we knew) might have predicted.
She is my memory keeper. And I am hers. I didn't even remember the time we made Hamantaschen for Purim. But she did. And she even posted my old recipe, in my own hand, to her blog..
And so, maybe I will get out the letters that have moved with me from state to state, home to home. Maybe I will reread the journals. Maybe....I will write again. With thanks to my memory keeper.
The other was raven haired and attractive in a way none of us really understood. She had a certain charisma, a way of influencing people. She was Catholic. She was always tempting fate. She started out in little ways. She grew pot plants on her window sill. When her mother realized what they were, she vacuumed up the leaves. Neither of them said a word about it. Later in her life she was always part of a strong group, and never was just a member of a cult-like group, but was the leader of it. We shared Easter. We shared boyfriends. We shared our other best friend. She convinced us to join the chess club. The boys there would love us, she said.
And I guess I seem myself as the "stocky" brunette. But that can't be true. I was a figure skater and skated hours every day. I wasn't much over 110 pounds at 5'4". I am Jewish and shared my holidays with both of my friends. They came to Seder, to celebrate Hanukkah. Through the years many memories fade. I haven't thought about many of them. All three of us liked to write. We wrote long letters to one another. I have always had a fantasy that I would write a book about those times. I lost track of those two women. I moved to Georgia, one of us was in Africa as a missionary (I told you I have a great book here) and the other lived in NYC. I guess I always wondered if they kept my letters too. I wondered if we shared the same memories.
Years later, my path has crossed with one of them. She has inspired me to write again. Who would have thought, over 30 years ago, I would be here at this keyboard. In front of a machine that only a few (the Mathletes and Chess boys we knew) might have predicted.
She is my memory keeper. And I am hers. I didn't even remember the time we made Hamantaschen for Purim. But she did. And she even posted my old recipe, in my own hand, to her blog..
And so, maybe I will get out the letters that have moved with me from state to state, home to home. Maybe I will reread the journals. Maybe....I will write again. With thanks to my memory keeper.
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