kindred spirit diaries

balloons ...

One afternoon, no doubt after consuming an entire package of soda crackers with a pound of margarine each, Amber and I took to devising some sort of tomfoolery.  The planning meetings probably went something like this;  "So, what do you wanna do?" "I don't know. What do you wanna a do?" "I don't know. Wanna play Barbies?" "Naw. Wanna eat some more crackers?" "Not really. Wanna chase each other with something sharp?"  "Hey! That sounds like a pretty darn good idea!" And so the story goes...

Wrapped in balloons and armed with something sharp (I'm hoping it was a pin but you never know...) Amber and I played a kind of hide and seek tag game where the object was to pop all the balloons on your opponent's ballooned-body-suit. 

I must pause here and explain a little something about Amber and I.  We had to be twelve or thirteen at the time. Whatever the age, there was a strong possibility we each had a thing for the young missionaries who served in our Ward (if only because they were of the male species and  between the ages of 18 and 21 ).  Of course, we would never admit how cute we thought they might be.  You see, Amber and I prided ourselves on our uncanny aversion to boys.  We prided ourselves on our ability to talk about anything but boys (quite a feat for a couple of preteens coming in to teenage-hood). I only mention this because...

As we chased each other through the yard with strings of balloons fastened hodge-podge to our bodies, laughing and screaming savagely, a sleek white car (sleek meaning washed) containing two young missionary men (of the male variety, did I mention?) pulled up.  If we hadn't mentioned that we might be interested in 'boys' before our decorum certainly revealed it. Amber and I simultainously shreiked and scattered like a couple of cocroaches when the lights flash on.

The thought that a boy would think we were weird or maybe even laugh at us mattered more at that moment than it ever had previously. We could laugh at ourselves and we could laugh at each other but heaven forbid someone from the opposite sex under the age of 21 find our exploits amusing (even if they happened to be Servants of the Lord).

Once the balloons were discarded and the tribal markings removed, we joined the missionaries for pizza in the house.  We were perfect specimens of civilized ladylike - um - ladies. However, the whole time, neither Amber nor I could  look at each other without smirking. We knew the truth... ladylike?  Indeed.

crackers...

There were always salted soda crackers at Amber's house.  This, to me, was a glorious treat.  We didn't have these delectible salt wafers at my house (I wonder why? I should ask my mom).  Out of all the foods I remember (jam on white bread soaked in milk, cheese whiz and sweet pickle sandwiches and easy access to ice cream) soda crackers bring me the fondest memories. 

We'd eat em' plain and try to leave a perfect bite mark in the the square. It was a near impossible feat. Hours of bite-simulation went into the production of one flawless curved indent. Or we'd eat em' smothered in soft margarine ( margarine was a treat back then and I would dip spoonfuls of the yellow sludge into white sugar...gag...when I wasn't smearing it on soda crackers.)

I remember it like it happened yesterday - Amber and I were siting in her kitchen nibling crackers like voracious mice and not really saying much.  I was situated in a chair with my knees up.  With cool deliberation Amber placed a cracker on one knee.  I watched in mute curiosity. Again, she balanced with perfect precision another cracker on my other knee.  I sat there absolutely still, determined not to disturb the natural chain of events.  Not a word was exchanged - the concentration was so ... concentrated.  Calmly she sat back and looked me once over.  She held my eyes in her placid stare.

With one swooping fell, both hands slammed down on the crackers! Crushing them into pieces on my knee caps! In that millisecond we exchanged feelings of shock and supremacy...sending us into uncontrollable peels of laughter. 

I have been know to, on occasion, laugh so hard I lose all bladder control. That was one of those occasions. 

an adventure at the gas station...

I was going through my journals and found this experience which I found rather comical and typical as to how we worked...

Amber, Jennifer (Amber's older sister) and I went to a Single Adult Meeting. On the way back we attempted to fill their car up with gas.  I must pause here to say something about the Graham family vehicles.  It is told in some circles of the Graham family curse.  No vehicle owned by them could last more than a year.  If memory serves me, in a ten year period they bought and buried 12 vehicles. 

This particular car (June of 1991) had only one door which opened properly.  The driver's door had to be opened from the outside.  This was a typical "feature" for Graham (and Pilon for that matter) vehicles.

We pulled up to the gas pump and the conversation went something like this:

Amber & Stacy simultaneously - "I'll check the oil."

Stacy and Amber commence arguing (which, of course, was neither heated nor worrisome but rather, preformed in playful jest).  After much bantering back and forth it is unanimously decided they do it together - arm in arm. They get out of the car and stand before the hood.  Stacy gives a firm bang on the hood (doing what she no doubt saw The Fonz do on Happy Days).  The expected "popping of the hood" does not happen.

Stacy - "Jen, pop the hood."

Jennifer is unable to maneuver the pulling of the hood-releaser-thing-a-ma-jig unless the driver's side door is opened. 

Jeniffer - "Open my door first."

Stacy can not hear Jennifer who is unable to roll down the window, another hallmark of this rather special automobile.

Stacy - "Open the hood Jen! Pull the handle-thing."

Jennifer - "I can't unless you open my door!"

Stacy bangs commandingly on the hood (and no doubt, hurts her delicate hand)- "Open sesame! Jen pop the hood!"

Jennifer yells at the top of her lungs (when Jen wanted to get at the top of her lungs, she could really holler) - "Open my door!"

The door is opened and the hood popped.  Amber and Stacy both try to lift the hood.  It does not budge. They try again with no success. Jennifer suggests they unlodge the latch underneath first.  They unlatch, lift and stare blankly into the belly of the car.

Amber - "Uh, so, where's the oil?"

stacy - "I dunno, is that it?"

Amber - "No, I think that's the battery."

Simultaneously - "Jen! Do you know what the oil looks like?"

Jennifer - "Does the car take unleaded or Supreme?"

Amber - "unleaded I think."

Amber tries to reach the oil - a session of little leaps and bounces and failed feeble attempts to get at the oil (what with being vertically challenged and all) which remains maddeningly out of reach. Jen helps while Stacy tries to fill up the car. 

Stacy, after checking both sides of the car - "Where's the gas tank hole?"

Jennifer - "In the back."

Stacy pulls the gas gun around to the back and is yanked short.  Regaining her composure she pulls on the hose again -unable to persuade more length.

Stacy - "We need to move the car forward, the hose won't reach."

 Jennifer - "The hose is wrapped around the tank."

Amber comes to help. Once all is untangled and the nozzle inserted no gas comes out.  All attempts are tried again. No luck and what is more, no gas either.

Stacy , "Maybe you're standing on the hose?"

Amber - "Maybe the station's tank is empty?"

Without warning a mans voice sails overhead - "Lift the arm on the tank."

Both girls freeze - the voice seems to come from nowhere. "You have to turn the tank on."  

Amber & Stacy notice the gas attendant in the window.  Stacy lifts the arm, Amber presses the trigger - gas sprays all over (apparently the station has plenty of petroleum). Jennifer comes to the rescue, takes the hose as gas sprays everywhere. 

All three girls break out in laughter.  The car is filled. The oil checked and the few bystanders unfortunate enough to witnessed the whole ordeal went home wondering if the 'women drivers' sterotype had just been proven an irrevocable fact.

welcome dear friends...

Hello! Welcome!

Many many years ago a little girl with rosy cheeks, curly brown hair and big hazel eyes sat timidly in her new sunday school class.  She had left behind her home and her circle of friends in Airdrie.  She was anxiously hoping to find a friend or two in Barrhead.  She was quiet & shy but she smiled easily and that was all the encouragement I needed to introduce myself...

We became fast friends.  We became bosom friends.  We were 8 then, we are 38 now.  Our friendship, over the years, has remained even though our lives have taken different paths. We live 300 miles apart.  Amber has a brilliant (albeit challenging) career she loves and I have a brilliant (albeit challenging) family I love.  We are quite different and yet quite the same. 

We both take pride in our 30 year friendship.  The years of memories stored in our minds are very precious to us and we laugh over them often.   Our experiences and adventures are true gifts from God and we don't want them to fade as our memories fail us.   For years we have been talking about writing them down.  We want our children and futrue children to know about our exceptional friendship. 

So we started this blog. At first it was private - something for just the two of us to use at our leisure as a way to catch our stories before they fell through the cracks.  But catching only our memories wasn't enough.  Our memories encircled many other people and we could not paint an accurate picture without them.  

Amber's family has absorbed me into their circle. I truly feel a kindred to Amber's older sisters, Jennifer and Rebekah.  Amber's mother, Sharon, was my mother too.  She is richly rooted in my memories along side my own mother. Amber & I felt we needed their memories to enrich and complete our collection.

But even more than their memories we needed their voices and their wisdom.  I think it is safe to say, these women molded who we are.  I know it is true for me. We - I -  am made by these women. They taught me how to laugh and to love; how to be strong. They taught me how to forgive (through their shining examples).  They taught me how to be true.  I - we - can not keep this joy all to ourselves.  It must be shared.

And it is needed. 

So many good things are under attack in our world today. Good things like decent health care, fresh drinking water, democracy, eating meals as a family, marriage - the list is long and diverse.  And we see friendship, in particular friendship between women, under attack by vices like backbiting, jealousy, pettiness and lustfulness. 

One might be tempted to characterize true friendship as a myth. The message in the media suggests friendship embodies betrayal of feelings, secrets, boyfriends (& husbands); petty jealousies; even sexual experimentation.  This mindset seems to be the norm in our society.  Or at least it is the message our young girls are infiltrated with when they turn on the television, go to the movies, open a magazine or a book.  It seems almost prerequiste to a.) not really like your friends in the first place or b.) betray her before she betrays you or c.) use her in every self serving way imaginabled. It's bothersome especially becasue we know what true friendship is and the joy it brings. 

The world needs to know (or be reminded)  friendship is NOT meant to be complicated by the above mentioned vices. Those ways of relationship are NOT the norm.  Women can and do work together. Women can and are kind to each other.  Friendship embodies generosity, constancy, love, respect, forgiveness, understanding, acceptance and compassion. True friendship encompasses the kind of caring which cures all fear, loneliness, doubt and despair. 

Friendship between women is a force - true and extremely powerful.  

Friendships shared between women have been the driving force behind counted and countless - told and untold miracles.  Nothing of true worth has ever been accomplished without a good woman  (and any honest man will attest to it).  A good women is never more at her best when she has a good friend in her corner.  The world needs women who love each other, don't you see?  Women need to understand, nurture and guard friendship. 

That is what Kindred Spirit Diaries is all about.  This is a place to share stories about friendship.  This is a place to lift each other into richer and deeper friendships.  This is a place to learn more about true friendship and what it looks like.  This is a place to share yourself. This is a place to renew old friendships and make new ones. 

We hope you visit often and share your comments. Please tell us your thoughts on the subject "friendship". Please share your stories. Please share yourself. We can join our voices together as a beacon of what true friendship really is.