Remember the theme song from the TV show, “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father”?
“People let me tell you about my best friend… He’s a warm hearted person who loves me ’til the end now.”
” ” “He’s my one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down and my pride and joy.”
“People let me tell you about him , he’s so much fun..”
“Whether we’re walking man to man or talking son to son…” He’s my best friend da, da, dah, dah, dah,da!
Yeah, something like that!
I met my best friend when I was really young. He made me feel special and important and safe then, and still does now. So I guess it’s safe to say it’s been a lifetime friendship. How cool is that?!
He used to hang with me in the middle of some pretty tough stuff. He had my back you could say, and made sure I knew that there was always hope and that I was never alone. And as a child I always felt like I had a playmate, because I did. Someone who saw pictures in the clouds and patterns in shadows. Someone who I colored with and drew in the sand with. Someone who told me I could do it when my little brother’s diaper needed changing, and the pins were stuck in the sogginess. Someone who heard my songs and believed my voice was the most beautiful sound.
I remember the first time I learned my best friend’s name. I previously referred to him as “friend”. It was a funny time in life. Developmentally at least. You know when kids are little and have no filter? And in addition to having no filter, they can’t lie and often can’t whisper. Well, I was that age. It’s a pretty funny age as I observed it in my own children and got to witness their uncensored innocence.
Easter Sunday. We hardly ever went to church, but my mom was all about appearances. Looking good. So each year at Easter we made an appearance at Sunday Mass all dresses in Easter finery.
Finery is not comfortable. Or mine was not. I always found it quite embarrassing. The itching of crinoline under the dress, and sharp tags that couldn’t be removed in case the dress would be returned after the holiday. Cheaply made rough lace edged nylon ankle socks that had heels either too short or long depending on what was left in the package at that holiday. Then there were the patent leather (vinyl) shoes with the slippery plastic sole that were design specifically to create multiple bleeding blisters if I engaged in any play, as well as guarentee muddy undies from wiping out. Top all this off with my mom’s latest creation. An Easter hat! A cheap plastic “straw” hat with wire tipped elastic cord that held it tight to my head. Mom would decorate the creation with fake flowers and a color themed ribbon.
Mother/ daughter color themes look cute. My feet hurt, and the church floor was slippery under my feet. I felt cute. I got yanked along by my hand down the left side aisle of the church trying my best to embody “cute” when I saw something really exciting. I was so excited I stopped walking to stare and point with joy. This did not fit into “appearance”. “What?!”, grumbled my mom. “Who’s that?!”, I not whispered… “It’s Jesus, you shithead!”, she growled and followed with a smack in the back of the head.
I smiled as I tripped into the pew. Jesus… so that’s your name. My best friend. He’s my best friend da, da… dah,dah, dah, dah, da!