Onedia in the Ozarks

I have never had the knack of making friends, those bosom buddies with whom you laugh, learn, cry , talk for hours, and know for ever. You know those friends like they have on TV shows and in Films ? I have no memory of a friend before the second grade. The only playmate(s) I remember were primarily my older sister and cousins. Through the first grade we lived in a very rural community and the only playmate except during school was my sister.

The only interactions I recall from 1st grade was one on the homeward journey of the school bus.It seems I hit an older boy with my book satchel for aggravating me about my coloring techniques. (I was 1st grade he seemed huge) I was almost banned from the bus. So, I guess my interpersonal difficulties began very early.

So, no memories of a friend and even my relationship with my sister who was three years older were more tense than easy as our personalities were more different than similar. That all changed in second grade. New school and a small town. It all began with a fuss ( I think there is a pattern here — so more on that in another post) we were in Second grade in the era of starched petticoats and full skirts — I swished her papers off her desk or she swished mine — no one can remember. But out of the swishing came the friendship that I consider was my lifeline for the next ten years.

Jeanne Carol (pronounced like Jeannie and always both names), my personal angel and one of the sweetest humans on earth. She was my best friend. We attended the same school often in the same class and from third grade on we lived on the same street a few houses apart. Her parents were like second parents for me. Her house was a safe haven when mine was in flurry and fury.

Jeanne was the only close friend, that I had throughout school. I had friendlies and some-time friends, but she was the only true friend. She had the knack for making and keeping friends and I did not. I was prickly and uncertain of myself and others. My own family was prickly, mostly introverted, and often at odds with the maternal part of the extended family. My father’s family was close and friendly and my mother’s family was fractious. We lived near my mother’s family. So, most of my role models for behaving as family or friends were messy and fractious.

Jeanne and I occasionally had tiffs, but I do not remember them. Possibly, on my part the tiffs stemmed from the fear that one of her other friends would replace me, but of course she never did. Unfortunately, I did not really break the code that was her secret to making friends and although I have learned more about the art over the years to the extent of sustaining some long term friendships, I wish I had understood enough to ask her about making friends those many years ago.

Jeanne is still my friend. We have not actually seen each other for over 25 years, but we have managed to stay in touch. She currently lives most of the year in Honduras, has children and grandchildren.

She is currently in country for a few weeks and close enough for a nice little trip. So, after more than 25 years I will finally get to see my Jeanne again this month.