The Treasure of Friendship

Mary Ellen, Doris, and Lee at Toccoa Falls

Author’s note: Why am I writing about something as banal as friendship when the world and our nation are in a daily state of crisis? Because friendships help to keep me grounded in troubled times and because I recently delighted in a college roommate reunion.

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It all began for me on a steamy afternoon in August 1967 when I arrived on the campus of Toccoa Falls College in Toccoa, Georgia. I was welcomed by Lee, my hometown best friend, and Mary Ellen, her favorite roommate from the year before. For two years, the three of us shared a dorm room built for two with little aggravation and rarely a cross word.

This September, Mary Ellen and Lee converged on my home in Wisconsin from California and South Carolina for our first reunion in many years. We had a marvelous time as we hiked La Crosse’s Grandad Bluff with its view of the Mississippi River Valley, cruised the Mississippi on the La Crosse Queen, and viewed Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale. But catching up and reminiscing, meaning a lot of talk, was the most fun of all.

One of the joys of being with my college roommates is our shared history. They knew my late husband, Mike, before I did and they lost no time introducing us when I arrived on campus. Long conversations turned into dating, then going steady. I proudly wore his much-too-large high school class ring as proof of our relationship. By the time I went home for Christmas, Mike and I were engaged, though it was another year before he saved enough to purchase a diamond ring to make it official.

Today our version of dating would simply be called hanging out. 0n a typical day we met for dinner in the school cafeteria that offered homegrown, home-cooked food and plenty of it. I promptly put on the infamous “freshman 15” even though I would give Mike my second hamburger, and he ate three without gaining a pound. After dinner, we walked and talked, or sat on the stone wall that bisected the campus and talked, or sat in the student center and talked. In an era when cell phones hadn’t been thought of, there was little to distract us from conversation. On Sundays, we walked to the impressive waterfall the school is named for and then met a group of friends, including Lee and her boyfriend, George, for dinner and more talk. Off-campus dates were allowed once a month and only for juniors or seniors and their dates. Lucky for me, Mike was a junior.

The social highlights of the year were campus-wide banquets complete with tuxes and evening gowns. In the conservative Christian culture of the day, drinking and dancing were verboten. The sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll culture of the 60s passed us by, not a bad thing. But we did manage to circumvent the six-inch rule. Even holding hands was not allowed, but a gentleman could always give a lady his arm for a stroll, and no one monitored our activities when we were off campus.

Lee and George married in the college chapel the day after George’s graduation and promptly left for their first ministerial assignment in Maine. Mike and I followed suit two months later and headed for Michigan, the first of numerous moves for both of us. Mary Ellen stayed to finish her degree and then pursued further education before marrying and moving to California.

At first, we three kept in touch the old-fashioned way with letters and occasional phone calls or visits. Even while living hundreds to thousands of miles apart, we managed to meet each other’s children and develop auntie relationships with them.

Long-distance calls were pricey back then, so reserved for emergencies or special occasions. Now we can talk by the hour without running up the basic phone bill or send emails and texts. Lee and Mary Ellen still send Christmas and birthday cards, but I confess I rarely do.

For the last two years, we met once a month via video link. And on occasion, we hop on an airplane and meet in person. Mary Ellen’s 80^th birthday—no, I’m not there yet—prompted our September reunion.

Our 20-year-old selves couldn’t even imagine the senior citizens we have become—mothers, grandmothers, widows. Lee has four children, ten grandchildren, six great-grands, and counting. I have two daughters and three high school and college–age grandsons. Mary Ellen, who worked with children for years, has none of her own, but says she has no regrets on that score. She still has her “prince charming,” and they are quite content with their feline and canine fur babies.

Despite the differences in location, careers, and family or marital status, we three still have much in common. Cats, books, and church are part of all our lives. Walking is the preferred form of exercise, and singing in a choir passes for fun.

I am grateful that Lee and Mary Ellen stayed in touch when I was squeezing in education between marriage and children, moves, and career changes; when I was a stay-at-home mom, a journalist, and a therapist. I have just as closely followed the meandering journeys of their lives, rejoicing or weeping with them as life unfolded.

While our friendships flourished over the years, we have never lived in the same place. Of necessity, we each found local friends wherever we landed. For a while my closest local friend was Mrs. Rossi, who was 73 to my 23. When Mike and I had little children, other young families from church were the friends we shared life with. In our daughters’ school years and beyond, we found friends among colleagues, coworkers, and neighbors as most people do.

Ever since college days, walking and talking with friends has been one of my favorite things. I started walking with Debra in the 1980s when our families lived upstairs and downstairs in the same house. Later, we worked together and often walked during our lunch hour.

I took the first walk with my neighbor Carol in 1996, and the last one in 2014, just before we moved away. Eighteen years passed as Carol and I walked and talked three or four days a week, joined by Melba, Phyliss, and Dianne among others as schedules and circumstances allowed.

Though I haven’t found a consistent walking buddy since, I still walk—though not as far or as fast—and I miss the talk. These days, I talk with friends when we meet for coffee or lunch now and again.

In the ebb and flow of life, some friends have been friends for a season, while many friendships have stood the test of time and distance. Social media, for all its faults has made it possible to stay minimally in contact with friends who otherwise might have been lost in life’s twists and turns.

Maintaining friendships over time, whether local or long-distance, takes a commitment of time and attention, even money. Worth it? Absolutely. Treasured friendships in this life set the stage for a grand reunion in heaven someday!