Some I met in Grade School, some in Junior High. Five Girls who are all now in their 80’s. We played Hop Scotch, talked about boys, sang in the choir, marched in the band, had sleepovers where no one slept, and talked about boys.
We all graduated in 1953, followed our dreams and aspirations, college, marriage, and promising jobs. We made decisions that separated us physically but did not separate our friendships.
We started a Round Robin, passing a large manilla envelope to the next recipient’s address after we had shared our lives in writing.
It was always exciting for me to find that envelope in the mail, and it meant I would stop whatever I was doing to sit down and read every word.
Most of those words were pleasant, but some shared the loss of a parent or child, and I felt their pain, since I had lost a child and later, both parents. I’d always considered their families as part of my own.
All too soon, some had sought new adventures a long way from the place we had called home. When we had a Class Reunion, fewer were able to make the trip, so that envelope arriving by mail was even more precious.
And then there were four. The loss lay heavy on my heart and made it clear how much she meant to me.
With time passing, it also meant there would be more sad news. Two lost husbands after long and painful illnesses, but the Round Robin survived.
When we all became computer literate, we used that for our communication. Technology provided an even quicker way to keep up on the latest happenings.
We acknowledge the arrival of Grandchildren, and job changes, and even location changes and the loss of their significant other.
We never forgot a Birthday, and I remember them all to this day.
We still share those long-ago memories from our days when we bonded, like marching with a frozen trombone mouthpiece stuck to your lips on a frigid football game in November. Or twirling a baton in front of the trombone line and dropping the baton. I played trombone and had to sidestep a time or two, since two of my Round Robin cohorts were twirlers. We still laugh.
I’ve been fortunate to make many friends in my 85 years, but only a handful know who and what I was 80 years ago. I consider that a blessing.
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