Monday, October 7, 2013

B.F.F. ...

Marlene Terry
Got thinking the other day about best friends.
I've been lucky. There have been many wonderful people throughout my life who've left their influence as we experienced growing up together, school days, falling in love, marriage and beyond.

However whenever the thought of a best friend comes to mind the name that always pops up first is Judy Loveday.
We first met as little, little girls at Wilson Elementary. And from kindergarten up to 5th grade we were inseparable.

Judy lived with her mother and her little brother, Brent,  just down the block from me in a house about the same size as mine.
Neither of us were in piano, dancing or any other extracurricular activity that I remember. But we were happy and busy anyway as we invented our own pastimes and made plans for the future.

Our clubhouse, so to speak, was downstairs in the basement (cellar) at Judy's house.
To get there you had to move the bed to the right in Judy's bedroom. That's because it was the only way to open the door which was conveniently located ... in the floor, of course.

Once the door was open you had to descend more than a few steps through the darkness in order to reach the chain that turned on the light. And even then, the room below wasn't all that inviting.
That is, it wasn't all that inviting unless you had your best friend in tow. Then the journey always turned into an adventure that you could talk about for weeks.
Judy's mom worked. And on occasion she would leave instructions for a task that needed to be completed before she (Mrs. Loveday) got home.
Like the time Judy had to make a simple green salad for dinner.
Just happened to be on one of our planned, after-school meetings downstairs in the clubhouse. ... So I got to help.

We hauled the lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers and a big bottle of salad dressing into the cellar, with us, and planned to bring the needed utensils on the next trip down.
That's when we heard the cellar door close with a loud thud, followed by the sound of the bed being slid back in place.

"... BRENT!" Judy exclaimed angrily. "You open the door right now!"

We both knew it would be awhile. He'd done it before, leaving the door shut tight, not to open it again until just prior to his mother arriving home. 

The only problem?
Judy knew if her jobs weren't complete there'd be trouble, exactly why we had to make do.

In the corner of the room in a box with some other toys was Brent's cowboy hat, holster and gun. And we laughed when the inverted hat suddenly became a very nice salad bowl.
His gun? The salad tongs needed for mixing.
I still remember the look on Brent's  face when he finally opened the door and up we came with a perfectly-made salad ready to scoop from the hat to a regular bowl. 
"Here's your gun," Judy said handing him his greasy weapon. "Don't worry. We won't tell Mom what you did!"

... Needless to say Brent was speechless and even better, forced to wear his slimy hat through dinner in order to keep things looking normal for his mother.

Judy and me? 

... We enjoyed dinner immensely ... while giggling, poking one another and exchanging glances. ... It's what best friends do when they're on an adventure.

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