Friendship Rings

"Make new friends

and keep the old

one is Silver

   and the other Gold."

      I remember my first friendship ring. It was a silver band with "forget me not" flowers embossed all the around my finger. I must have been 11, or maybe 12.  It was my first permanent friendship. Oh, I had friends before. One was Beth Gordon, who was in my 3rd grade class and attended my 9th birthday party. 

 She and I laughed like hyena's until our sides split. I remember she had a wonderful sense of adventure, red/blonde hair, and freckles like me. But she moved away, before school started again, and no one replaced her for a long time.

   There was another girl, Susan DiNardo. She lived a few houses away from me. Susan and I would walk to public school together in first grade. We would stop at Jane and Jerry Lerner's house to pick them up, so we could all watch out for each other, on our treacherous, one mile journey without adults. Small town life, how lucky we were! In second grade, Susan and I transferred to Sacred Heart School. There was a school bus that came to our street corner. So there was no need to walk home, for at least a few more years. Friendship then was based on mutual need. 

    The girl with the ring, was vivacious. She was all the things I wasn't. She was cool, daring, brave, warm and friendly. She was accepting, and tolerant. She knew her way around the neighborhood. She wasn't afraid to talk to boys. She had Beatles' records and knew all the words. She knew how to dance. Together we learned about independence by taking the '20 bus' to Menlo Park Mall and buying nail polish at the Woolworth's 5 and dime store. I remember she always had confidence. To me she was the leader, and I was glad to follow her. I always thought she was pretty, with long flowing hair that would swing when she ran. She had a gracefulness that was like a doe, soft footed and quick. And her laughter ----who could forget that laughter? When you heard it, you couldn't help but join in. Later, after growing up together, and then growing apart, it was the laughter that brought us back together again. But what originally cemented the friendship was the ring. And at 12, a ring was pretty important.

    After watching my own daughters forge their way in the world of girls, I reminisced the  importance of that friendship and the ring. I can't pin point the first time she and I decided we were friends, or remember what the issue was that had us go separate ways. But the path was winding, and shaded with many life experiences. And like all rings, the circle had no real beginning or end. But the ring was a statement of  belonging. It closed us into our own little world of safety and security. Within that circle I have so many memories. I remember laughter, and adventures, tears and frustrations, and the feelings one would expect to have for a sister. 

   Today, I celebrate my circle of friends. And I am grateful for the chance to delve back into that particular circle once again. I am older now, hopefully wiser, and certainly a lot richer for having had these friendships. I am counting on more laughter, more adventures, and a sacred sharing of tears and frustrations in the days to come. I no longer have that friendship ring, as it has gotten lost with time. But what I do have, is a ring of friends that grows as I grow. And besides, now that I am not so small anymore, I need more room to fit in anyway. 

Do You Bunco?

BUNCO is a completely mindless
dice game that just happens to be 
loads of fun.  That's because it 
requires 12 women to play -- add 
some great appetizers and frozen 
cocktails, and you have yourself a 
party.

 Each month we gather. We take turns hosting the event. We gather in our homes, be they large or small, new or old, fancy or delicately simple, neat and not so neat . But it really doesn't matter.We do it for the fun of it. It is an addiction that feeds our fancy for feminine companionship and constant laughter. It recharges our hormone banks back to the days where laughter came easy, and everyone was your friend.  

   Tonight was a Valentine's Day theme. There were red paper hearts on each table, pink and red napkins, and even heart shaped chocolates at each table. The tables were colorful shades of red, pink or white and had the necessary items: pens, sheets of paper for keeping score, and three little dice on each table. The hostess provided an antipasto salad "snack" that was really dinner for most of us, having come from a long work day. There were sweet treats, candies, and munchies at each turn, and at each table. And the beverages flowed freely: soda, juice, wine, and the ultimate concoction of a frozen something or other. 

   I was the hostess in October and had a Fall Theme. The tablecloths, napkins, dishes, even the front door, were all decorated in rich browns, oranges and burgundy's. Even the prize gifts were decorative dishes, or rich tablecloths one could use for Thanksgiving holiday. 

    Each month these perfectly normal women, all who have normal children, normal families, normal homes, and normal jobs, get together and act crazy. And I love it! These are women who wouldn't dream of visiting a gambling casino, a black jack table, or even a slot machine. Yet they hoop and holler as if no one was watching when the roll of the dice becomes a challenge to someone else at a table. And the duck.....get the right combination on your roll, and grown women will play tug of war over who gets to hold the rubber duckie for the next 10 minutes. "DUCK"  "DUCK"  "It's my turn to have the duck!"

    I teach Special Education. 'Normal' in my routine is anything but normal. But Bunco is my outlet, my recreational salvation. It is the chance to develop female friendships, in brief snippet conversations that rotate when the bell rings, and players rotate tables. Like a thrilling cliff hanger, I learn the details of someone's life, in segments. "They got engaged?" (bell rings- tables change). (Next month) "What did he say when he proposed?" Or "Hi! I haven't sat at the same table as you in two months, how is your mother doing? We need to catch up!"

    And of course, every month there are "prizes". There are prizes for the biggest loser, biggest winner, and of course, whoever is holding that darn Duck! It is all in fun, and when I sometimes feel I am too tired to go, because of a hard day at work, my children remind me that I ALWAYS come home smiling. My estrogen batteries are somehow recharged. Sometimes I come home with half a story, a prize for being the biggest loser, and the acute awareness that I belong. And sometimes, every once in awhile, I even bring home the duck.