A Long Time Relationship

How does one explain a long time relationship? Start at the beginning, you say... mebbe that is easy... its the results that can be terribly complicated. But, I shall give a dignified gun-ho.


When I was almost eight in 1950 my folks and I moved to Mexico City. It was the Easter before I turned eight. And yes, my brilliant (no pun) and not very practical dad tried to cross from Texas into Mexico on Easter day. What a fiasco!

I digress from the question.

We lived at a couple of locations before my parents bought a house, which later in my life seemed to be fitting, on Calle Sierra Nevada. (I love the state of Nevada).

By this time I had turned ten and my sister Sara was an infant.

I had a best girlfriend who lived next door to this family. The family consisted of three boys and one girl. They ranged in age from age 12 down to age six. There came a time that the oldest boy - twelve - would invite me over to his house to play and I would go and generally would end up in their living room with his dad and mom and we four would play Scrabble. The other kids, including my girlfriend, found Scrabble boring. Most likely, I could out spell anyone (Still can), and very few brave souls would challenge me to anything that had to do with words.

I went to boarding school in El Paso, Texas the year I turned eleven. My friend went to military school in San Antonio, Texas. We were avid letter writers. He would write, I would respond. We only saw each other at Christmas and summer vacations.

We were growing up and when I was twelve and he fourteen he gave me my first kiss. I was totally enamored. He was pretty well smitten. We never talked about mushy stuff, but, I just knew.... what? I hadn't the foggiest clue, but I just knew....

Time went on, my parents separated and when I was 15 we came home to the United States. My dad had custody and we went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. My friend graduated in 1958 and went on to college, still in Texas. We were still communicating. He came to Bethlehem, twice before I graduated and now, we were in a deeper, more committed relationship.

I moved to New York in 1960 to be with my mom and to start college. I had wanted to go to Berkley however, even though I was accepted, my dad said "Harrump, do you think that money grows on trees?" So, I applied and was accepted to NYU. I could then live with my mom and not have to incur the expense of a dormitory or off campus apartment.

There was an ulterior motive to wanting to go to Berkley, besides the prestige, my friend was now in California and I wanted to be in California, too.

Our lives crisscrossed each other for the next four years. I would fly to California, he would come to New York.

I graduated in 1964 and went out looking for a job. Next thing I know, I am on the phone with my friend. Will I come to California so we can get married? That was the gist of the conversation. Little did I know, my life was about the get very complicated.

The summer of 1964 I went to California and the comedy was about to commence. I was met at the airport, dropped off at my cousin's house. Yeah, well, I stayed at my cousin's for six months and not a peep out of HIM!

I went home, sad, uncomprehending, and disillusioned. Did it ever occur to me to call the reason why I was in California? No. Well maybe, but, girls of my upbringing didn't chase after the fellas. That was the rationale I used. Dumb, you betcha!

Six months later, guess who is on my phone. By this time I had my own apartment.

All sugar and honey. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Puleeze, can I come to the City and see you?"

Again, I gave in, and he came to the City. The upshot was that he had married someone else. He had done the honorable thing, she was pregnant, yada, yada, yada.

I didn't know what to do, but true to form, I did nothing.

I know that I should have terminated the relationship, but, I could not do it.

We were still communicating with each other. Same ole pattern.


Months would pass, then would come the urge to see my buddy, or he would get the urge to see me. I don't know how to explain this relationship... it was definitely different.
Anyway, several years and several kids later and we were still talking. I went in the Navy, I had my twins, he divorced his wife, my mother died, his mother passed away, my dad retired, I moved to California. These were all reasons to talk to and my friend and he to me. An old song comes to mind. "Just Say My Name and I'll Be There." We had always operated on this premise.
One day, however, he was asking me a favor and somehow the name "Linda" entered the conversation. I thought to myself, "No, I am not going there." I was not willing to give in again. Instead of my usual backing down I told him that all bets were off.

That was in 1995 or '96.

In April of 1998 my dad died. In May of 1998 I met Walt, my husband, now. For the first time in countless of years I did not think of my friend's birthday on May 17th.

I wrote the letter looking for my friend towards the end of May, 1998. He had passed away on May 15th, two days before his 58th birthday.

Misspent youth? Probably

Too much wishful thinking? Maybe

Wanting to go back to a place that time has softened? No

I am content, my husband is my rock. I definitely, for the first time in my life, feel anchored.

I just miss my friend.