My friend died today after a long and brave battle with lung cancer. The doctors gave her 2 years and she made it past that by several months. She's in a better place, but my garden and tree are nowhere near as pretty. If I hadn't known her friendship longer than anyone else's, she was number two for sure. More than 60 years, at least.
Jeanne had that certain something that made her special. When we would go to the fireman's carnival every summer, her brother, Kenny, would invariably hit her up for money. She'd hand it over with no complaint. When I protested, she looked me in the eye and said, "I don't care." She really didn't. No matter what it cost her to keep her brother in change for the games or food, she gave willingly.
I was telling my brother just recently about the homes that were begun to be built on the hill above ours, but an unstable young man who didn't want them put sugar in the tanks of the equipment, so the builders left. That property always had water on it and the ruts made by the heavy equipment were a trap for a 4 year old boy. Jeanne and I were out walking when we heard the call for help. We ran to see the trouble. A boy of about 10 or 12 was trying to get the 4 year old out of the muck, but he wasn't tall enough or strong enough to pull him free. Jeanne got there first and pulled the boy out, carrying him home while I trailed behind, carrying his boots that had remained in the mire.
On more than one occasion, Jeanne and I would walk downtown to Jones' to get her mother an ice cream cone at 10:00 at night. Tree lined streets with few lights in between didn't bother us. Couldn't do that in this day and age, but those were gentler times.
Bud, her father, was very strict and Jeanne's first thought when we got into mischief was, "What am I going to tell my dad?" I remember what happened to the two of us far more vividly than the party several of the neighborhood girls and some of the army guys gave me just before I eloped to El Paso. It was a long party. Went on until 4 AM. Nothing troubling. No drugs, drunkenness, or bad behavior. It was just long. When she and I finally walked home, she came running back to the street after she'd gone to her house. She was locked out and didn't know whether her dad had come home and locked the house without knowing she was still not home or if he'd found out she wasn't home and deliberately locked her out.
4 AM Sunday morning is no time to worry about things like that, so I took her home with me. I wakened sometime after my parents had left for church. Standing in the kitchen, I could see Jeanne's mother in their garden behind the garage in the back yard. I made a beeline for Esther, who beamed at me and said, "Jeanne's still asleep."
"I know," I told her. "She's asleep in my spare bedroom." I quickly explained the situation. Esther said to get her up and meet her in the garden, which she did. Jeanne and her mother went into the kitchen talking about things in the garden and her dad never knew what happened.
Jeanne was responsible for me meeting my husband. Her oldest brother, John, was married to a woman whose step-dad was a farmer with a cow pond that the servicemen liked to use for swimming. Jeanne called me one morning saying the guys we had double-dated the week before were down at the pond. Did I want to go? We'd have to walk home.
It wasn't the guys we had dated the week before. It was Bob and four other fellows. Bob and I hit it off and married five months later. Jeanne met Juan through the military base, but it wasn't that day. Marrying guys from the base was just another of the bonds we shared in our young lives.
Like so many good friends in childhood, moves causes a distance, but somehow, Jeanne and I managed to stay in contact. I was living in Europe when she and Juan married. They moved to New Mexico and we were on our way to California after leaving Germany. We stopped there and had a grand visit. I'll always remember the way Juan entertained our son while Jeanne and I caught up.
Later, when we were moving from Arizona to New Jersey, we stopped to see them again. She said to me right after we arrived that she had a New Mexico friend that was the spitting image of me. Mannerisms included. Lo, and behold, the woman showed up a short time later. Jeanne wasn't kidding. It was like talking in a mirror. Very disconcerting.
During one of our two stays in Arizona, she and her family came to visit us. We had a good time shopping in Nogales, Mexico. We toured the saguaro cacti and were hoping to get into the Old Tucson, where cowboy movies were made. Unfortunately, we didn't know we could get in on a military discount or we would have gone for sure.
But, we did see Tombstone, so it wasn't a total bust. In fact, it was there her mother provided another memory. The Rose Tree Inn in Tombstone is a marvel to behold. Scottish roses about the size of a little fingernail and in clumps at the end of branches like lilacs were on a huge trellis of several thousand square feet. Cuttings were available for about $6. Esther wasn't about to pay for a cutting, so she pulled one off, soaked a scarf she had in her purse, wrapped the branch in the scarf and stuck it in her purse. Bob and Juan tormented her about her "criminal act" and really laid it on thick when the branch died after she planted it.
Of course, there was always a lot of eating, talking, laughing and reminiscing about old times when we got together, along with enjoying each other's children. Now, she's gone. I'm not even sure I have any pictures of her. She won't fade from my mind, but it would be nice to look at her picture once in a while.
The one comfort I have is that my dear friend will be waiting for me when I get to heaven. My tears are ones that say "Good bye" from here, but not forever. Someday, we'll see each other again and that's a comfort. We haven't seen each other in years, but knowing she's gone, my world's just not as bright and beautiful anymore. Rest in peace, Dear, dear friend. Till we meet again.
No comments:
Post a Comment