Make New Friends, but Keep the Old

Tucked into the little private places of my heart are dear friends, people I’ve known for either a really long time or people who have become special in a short while. Although I often worked with co-workers, I more often worked with friends, those who came into my life through our mutual employment but remain there because they fill one of the little spaces.

When I close my eyes, I can still smell the delicious odor of lentil soup that greeted me when I opened the door to the Career Center, where I worked with a woman who, to this day, is my friend. She is German in her heart, a proud, strong woman who shared more than one career with me. I first met her when we both wrote for the local newspaper, she as a full-time staffer and I as a sometimes stringer. I was drawn not just to her friendliness, but to her self-assuredness, a person who knew what had to be done and then did it, a Nike role model long before that brand made the slogan “just do it” popular.

We next crossed paths in the Career Center, where I supervised the Work Experience Education program and she commanded the Career Center tech desk. We recognized each other at once and forged a friendship that endures today, although our paths have crossed less frequently over the years. The lentil soup was an employment perk, a treat she made for her son’s German class (back in the day, most high schools offered instruction in several languages, including German, French and Latin, as well as Spanish). My stomach growled and she relented: I savored the first serving of the soup, rich in spices and floating bits of ham. Seldom have I enjoyed a bowl of soup more than I did that one, and I’ve never had a bowl of soup as delicious.

Together, we planned a Career Day the likes of which we both doubt anyone has seen since. Because we both are hard workers and know how to get the job done, we invited 125 different presenters to the campus, as well as a dozen different interactive displays, including a helicopter, military equipment and personnel, law enforcement, the medical profession, a ferrier, musicians, and beauticians who gave free haircuts! It was a festival of opportunity for students to sample potential careers, an event of which both of us were proud, but which degenerated within a week to those cutting remarks about how “your Career Day” took away from those teachers’ instructional time. They refused to acknowledge that the event gave students a pathway from their classroom to their futures, a lack that astounded both of us.

We both lost a piece of ourselves as the naysayers picked away at our accomplishment, rather than sharing the experience with us. Neither of us could figure out why so many of our colleagues were so petty, but we finally accepted that it was their issue, not ours, and moved on. I applied for an opening at another school site and left the lack of gratitude where it belonged, while my friend worked for another few years and then retired.

Her life has been filled with extreme joy and devastating sadness, including the sudden death of her beloved husband a few days before their youngest son’s wedding. Of course, I attended the wedding, and it was beautiful, but when I talked with my friend about the day a couple of years later, she confessed that she remembers little, if anything, of that time. She knew that the family had to conduct the wedding, that her deceased husband would have wanted that to be their decision, but her heart was over-flowing with sadness that her beloved husband was not there to share it with them.

When I returned to CA after a brief absence, I called my friend and visited with her, but as it always does, time has a way of passing before our minds come back to that place. Last night, one of my students asked me if I knew a woman, gave her name, and my face lit up. Of course, I told her, we worked together … and so much more. My student told me that my friend misses me, so I called her this morning. Her obvious joy at hearing my voice reminds me how much she has meant to me over the years, and when she admitted that she recently celebrated her 90th birthday, I was momentarily stunned. To me, she is still the vibrant, slightly older woman with whom I shared parts of my life! She is sharp as a tack, recognizing my voice before I revealed my identity, and recalling exact details from our shared experiences. How can she be 90??

I’m picking her up next week for lunch at one of the old inns in the desert. We’ll share some stories, catch up on one another’s lives, and enjoy each other’s company again, although probably not a bowl of lentil soup. I can’t wait!