kindred spirit diaries

the tide rises, the tide falls

My two daughters and I decided this year to perform a trio in the annual music festival. Alright, truth be told, my older daughter and I decided to do a trio and then convinced my younger daughter to join in. She wasn't keen, but the song is beautiful, so she acquiesced.

It has been quite a path to travel with my daughters, two of my best friends. When we had the first 2/3 of the song learned, we treated my mother with a concert over speaker-phone. Little did we know that the players on the other end of the head-set my husband was using to play an on-line game with could also hear us. Apparently, the players had all been yelling (common behaviour), when one of the players asked, "What on earth are you listening to?" and then they all fell silent until the end of the game. Nothing like a world-wide audience!

Tonight we practiced with our accompanist. One of the last times, as we perform in three days! Standing there, I tried to remember everything... stand up straight, hands at side, breathe, sing, remember your vowel sounds, come in louder here, crescendo, decrescendo, take a DEEP breath because you're going to have to hold it forever here, quiet here... and WHAT PITCH IS THAT LAST NOTE AGAIN?? I actually remembered everything... ok, not the bow at the end, but at least I didn't high-five my girls like I did at our last practice!

I love singing with my girls. I love hearing our voices weave in and out and then meld together. Granted, we make our fair share of blunders, but the laughter that we share binds us together as family... and as friends.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, the title of the post is our song... I just can't seem to get it out of my head! :)

Cars and Bugs... What a Mix!

Alrighty... I finally gave up on creating that PERFECT pen name and opted for my own trusty one! But I am here at last!

The first story I need to share involves my best friend from high school, Sarina, (still one of my best friends today) and her younger sister, Denise. They lived on a farm south of us and one day while I was visiting, we decided to take the family car for a drive down their lane. We didn't ask for permission for this, and none of us had our licenses yet. However, we all had our learner's and we felt that we could take a short drive down the meandering lane and return without having anyone find out.  

And everything was... until a grasshopper (we had swarms of them that year) hopped in the window and landed on the armrest right beside Denise, the driver. Terrified of bugs, she immediately crawled over Sarina and myself to get as far away from the offending bug as she could! Unfortunately, in her haste she forgot to put the car in park, and we rolled inexorably on. I kept urging Sarina to slide over into the driver's seat as she was closest, while Denise was almost in hysterics beside me. Sarina absolutely refused to get any closer to the bug, and as the car drifted off the road into the wheat field, I took matters into my own hands, crawled over Sarina, and stopped the car.

After backing out, we surveyed the damage. The car, it seemed, was unscathed. The wheat, however, was sorrowfully bent over in two parallel rows. Trying to hide the damage, we stood the broken wheat up as best as we could, and then hurried the car home before anything else happened!

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. 

Ah! Dad's Home!!

The remarkable thing about the 2 of us is our combined thoughts and imagination. Truly how dry our lives would have been without it, and hence there would be no writtings to share of our adventures.....Picture it.... Lunnford (small country community) 1986 (give or take a few years). The Graham Acreage, at the time we lived in a very old house from the 1930's, it had a grand kitchen, with bright blue flowered lino flooring, a huge black wood stove in the one of the corners and the 8 place setting table and chairs fit comfortably in the middle of the room. Stacy and Amber where thrilled with the fact that they where the only ones home, a perfect time to get using that imagination!

We put on our Sunday best, and prepared lunch for ourselves...left over roast chicken and potatoes. Talking with the most prestigious english accents of the high society, daintly serving ourselves the fine food, and talking of important things that people in high society would discuss. Bringing the food up to our mouths...we gourged ourselves, eating with our hands, shoving as much food in our mouths as we could. And then, calmly acting as sophicated ladies should act when each mouth full was finished. The course of the lunch continued in such a manner, and of course having bouts of laughter throughout, (trying not to choke while laughing and gourging ourselves). Then panic, we saw Dad's car pull up in the middle of our meal! Perhaps it was the fact that my dad was the no-nonsense kind of man at times and we definately where being quite "foolish". We felt we had to hurry and hide what we where doing. Stacy quickly threw all the food that was still left over into the large roasting pan with the chicken, and threw it in the fridge. I took the plates and scraped what was left into the garbage, destroying the evidence. In mere minutes, proof of our sophicated gourging had disappered and we both ran upstairs to my bedroom, to hide out....until next time.....

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.

Thus The Memories Begin....

There are so many memories that are in the fore front of my mind, and many more, I am sure that are hidden away, of this wonderful friendship that started almost 30 years ago. One thing that I know for sure is that my life would have been that much drier, lonely and perhaps darker without the friendship of Stacy. The one quality that never died over the many years of joy and pain throughout our lives was the fact there always laughter. Some how it was more that just friends, truly kindred spirits and eternal sisters is how I see our relationship, even though we are now miles apart and living completely different lives. Though the busyness of my life, always in the back of my mind she is there, and often comes to the fore front of my mind. My true friend. What you see below is the first entry of my true friend, but at this time we had been friends for 2 years previous. Enjoy the beginning thoughts of an eleven year old and please forgive my very poor penmanship!