My friend, Karen, lived across the street from us when we lived in Melody Hill from 1963-67 (a long stretch in one place for my family). I remember summers when we stayed overnight constantly, going from my house to hers. We skated and skateboarded, and built a skateboard-for-2 using four skates and some plywood. We built a fort in the field out back and ran screaming when we saw mice. We experienced the Beatles invasion together. We took in a stray cat and named her Jo-Kar (joker) and when she had kittens my parents had a conniption. We never missed an episode of Peyton Place when it was on three times a week. We crushed on the Men from U.N.C.L.E. We were still innocent and imaginative and we spent hours just talking. I am so grateful to have had a best friend like her. We moved to California in 1967 and it was heart wrenching to leave.
Karen’s father died last Saturday at the ripe old age of 92. Her mother is still living. I went over to the funeral home and we hugged and hugged, cried a little, but smiled, too.
No matter how life moves you in different directions, the bond you form at an early age is enduring. Karen and I have seen each other a few times over the years, but FB got us back together. She lives in Florida now and one of these years we’re going to swing by and visit.
I’m sorry for the circumstances, but seeing her today was like a gift.