My teenage best friend

Most of us had one. Some had more than one, like Lays potato chips.

I had just one. We lived four houses apart on the same block. We were inseparable from sixth grade through most of high school. Hours upon hours of our youth were spent as a pair.   We holed up in her room with RC Cola, chips and ice cream. Talked about all the nonsense teenage girls gab about, read books and National Lampoon magazines, put together jigsaw puzzles and played board games (I remember Stratego and a Bingo type of game played with a deck of cards).

We hung out in the mall before it was a thing. Bought stupid, frivolous things because we just had to have them. Like pet rocks and this plastic bird suspended by a spring you attached to the ceiling that had hinged wings that would seem to “float” in juxtaposition to the action of the spring. It was sort of hypnotic. Mine was yellow. Furry rugs in the shape of a footprint. Mine was purple. We loved a cologne and body mist called Love’s Fresh Lemon.

She was way into music. She hosted so many sleepovers with a few friends (I was almost always included) at her house on Friday nights and we’d watch “The Midnight Special.” I want to say “Soul Train,” too. But I’m not sure. Seems like there were a couple back-to-back music programs late Friday night. Wolfman Jack was the DJ of choice back then. Three Dog Night, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Earth, Wind & Fire, the Carpenters. Those were some of the great bands during our time. We joined the Columbia House Record/Tape club and started our record/cassette collections.

We went to movies together. Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw in “Love Story” resulted in our consumption of loads of Kleenex. We sat through it twice. MacGraw’s character’s famous line became the standard for romantic love: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”  Or maybe we watched the original movie of the rock opera “Jesus Christ Superstar” twice. She went several more times to JCS, as I recall. I might have gone with her to see “Star Wars” -- the original. Harrison Ford was brand new to stardom. I was awed by the opening scene with the massive Imperial Star Destroyer entering at the top of the screen, immersing viewers in the effect of it flying above them. The special effects were incredible. Yes, I’m that old.

Her family went to Maine for a couple months over a few summers. I still have letters and postcards she sent me. In June 1973, I went with her, her little sister, her dad and a fishing buddy of his to Canada to an island her dad and his brothers had built a log cabin on.   It was an adventure. Her dad, friend and little sister went fishing most days, and we were left to our own devices. We paddled the little sailboat (we weren’t brave enough to use the sail) to nearby beaches. Took the little runabout boat (when it wasn’t being used for fishing) into the mainland lodge and bought Cracker Jacks and canned soup nearly every day. Weird, I know. We would have swum in the lake, but her little sister went wading in first and walked back out covered in slick, black leeches. A lot of screaming, salt-throwing and gagging followed. Nope, no swimming. Going home, we listened to the station wagon’s radio as Secretariat won the Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths,  a record that still stands.

There were countless bicycle excursions five miles out of town to the pasture where her older sister’s horse Sheba was boarded. We rode the mare a few times. It was a workout to get the massive saddle onto its back and cinched into place. But mostly we wiled the day away wading in the little creek, messing with the donkey Jocko and enjoying our secluded patch of outdoors.

We learned to walk like models and strutted our stuff on late night walks along quiet streets on our end of town. This was before kids had to worry about abduction, pedophiles or gang activity. I found a little book at the grocery store on yoga, and we learned to do its poses. She was a fabulous runner and did track. Tall and lean, man, could she run. I was more into cats and reading.

She got a job at McDonald’s, me at Henry’s Drive-In, a rival of McDonald’s. Boys started coming into our lives. These divisions of our time started to impose themselves on our friendship. She was a year ahead of me in school and then started college. New friends and different perspectives for our futures and lives shuffled us further apart. We each got married and entered adulthood for real.

Eventually, we lost contact. Lost our need for each other. Our friendship faded away.  We’ve since found each other on Facebook and follow each other. She does some amazing needlepoint. I do this. We’ve reconnected, and it’s so comforting to know she’s out there.

Oh, and love meaning you never have to say you’re sorry is horse hockey. You’d better own up to those goof-ups where you hurt your partner or spouse, no matter how small, and acknowledge it. Say you’re sorry. Bring home some flowers, or a Wendy’s Frosty or something. Civility. It’s all about civility.