Life Long Friends--at Ninety Years

Last week my mom, G.G., attended the funeral of a life-long friend. My mom is a month shy of ninety-one, her friend a couple of months shy of ninety. Their grandmothers were sisters, nee Southard. This past Sunday, G.G. related to me some of their history together; modern mobility has altered lifestyles and not many Americans of my generation, or younger, will boast comparable friendships.

The two grew up in close proximity; however, they attended different schools. Back in their day, it was necessary for children to walk to school, thus the Ozarks were dotted with many one-room country schools. The two girls did enjoy sleep overs at each others homes. Mom related that they chose to sleep in the "little house" with Grandma Fannie to listen to her stories of by-gone days. No Barbies for those two.

A few years after the two became married women, each with two daughters, they became next-door neighbors. My memories are of two hard-working farm women who got together to share vegetable seeds, recipes, sewing tips and to help each other wallpaper their homes. Neither had a phone or time to linger over coffee. A monthly meeting of their sewing club was a potluck affair which was enjoyed by neighborhood women and children. They savored their canasta and pinochle card parties played with other couples, many lasting until the wee hours of the morning despite the need to rise for morning milking chores. Later, the two struggled with funding to convert the local school, following its closure, into a community building . They succeeded and began hosting a monthly music party for local bluegrass musicians and fans. On one occasion, they were the sole source of treats but managed to get the message to their husbands to forgo refreshments in order to offer enough to the musicians. Together they started an extended reunion of relatives, far and near, cleaned the building before and after the event, and always bringing extra food. Both traditions are alive and sponsored by a younger crowd these days.

G.G. related a story that embodied their special friendship. My mom had been assured by a threshing crew boss that he would definitely arrive after lunch time to begin their job. Threshing crews required lots of fuel, so when the crew arrived mid-morning, G.G. knew the pots and pans needed to fly. Immediately, her friend arrived and took over the chicken frying (wood burning cook stoves on a summer's day were sweltering) freeing my mom up to cook the vegetables (fresh from the garden), requisite mashed potatoes and crocks of iced tea and of course, dessert. The two women set a small table for their kids and saw that we were fed. By the time the crew cleared out there were precisely three chicken necks left on the platter! I can just imagine them laughing as they ate their meager fare. G.G. finished this narrative by saying, "She saw that I was in trouble and here she was to help--that's the kind of friend she was."

Later on the two ladies joined forces at a time in their lives when most women would have kicked back in front of the old T.V. G.G.'s grandson and her friend's granddaughter were the couple chosen by their classmates to run for royalty in the school carnival. The amount of money that the candidates earned for the carnival was the factor determining who would be carnival king and queen. I was in no position to contribute the time or money to "win" this honor for my son and I don't remember my contributions but I certainly recall theirs. These two ladies were in for the victory. Handmade quilts, jelly and jams, potted plants, and some of their collectables were donated to the country store. Pies, cakes, and cookies flowed from their kitchens. Their grands reigned as king and queen that year.

My mom is one to speak her mind. Throughout the years, I've only heard words of praise or concern for her special friend. What a treasure those women have shared!

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: Hey, remember me, up here, looking after all that goes on around here. Did you notice? Badboulderlady mentioned 2 or 3 times how her mother speaks her mind. Well, let me tell you, in a diplomatic way, with a nod to kindness, that heredity goes a long way in determining who we are. Yes, what was that? What did you say puddin"? Okay, guys, looks like I gotta go to work real soon. But before I go, what do you think about mothers-in-law having to eat chicken necks? Better not go there I guess. Like most Ozark women, Badboulderlady's mother is a great cook. If fried chicken isn't her specialty, then apple pie is. Or homemade ice cream. Or maybe a gooey oatmeal cake. For sure roast beef pot roast. I showed up pretty often as a dinner guest. And so did the local preacher of the Church of the Brethren. Both of us real smart guys, huh? And I got her best dish, Badboulderlady.

a parting shot from bbman: Don't let yesterday use up too much of today. Cherokee proverb