Friends, I woke up this morning with a bad cold, which is utterly shocking. With all of this mask wearing and social distancing, I can’t tell you the last time that I have had a cold. I almost forgot what it feels like to be sick. For reminder’s sake, it’s yucky.
Also, this morning I woke up to the sad news that one of my favorite people/pups on Twitter, Rex Masters, lost his beloved sister to her death this morning. My heart aches for him, and I have never met, nor conversed with the man, in my life. I feel like Rex might be out there on my blog space, or a fellow fan of his might be out there because I wrote a blog post about him one time, over a year ago, and today somebody looked at it. Rex, I am so, so sorry for your loss. Here is the post that I wrote about Rex Masters, a while ago:
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
My family has a lot going on this week, and all of it is colored with intensity, and excitement, and a whirling mix of emotion and nostalgia, and also with a smidge of worry and concern. I am feeling a little bit overwhelmed. So, what I do on times like these? I lean on my friends to indulge my idiosyncrasies. I lean on my friends. My friends know me and they get me. Last night, right at dinner time, I texted some of my closest friends this meme:
“Your Drag Queen name is your Grandmother’s first name and the last dessert/sweet you ate. Go.”
Answers:
Dorothy Cookie. Marietta Glazed Popcorn. Mariam Coconut Macadamia Cookie. Lessie Krispie Treat. Florence Jellybean. Mary Kisses. (suddenly interspersed with, “Honey, are you okay?”) Brigitte Pistachio Frozen Yogurt. (“Honey, when’s the graduation?”) Ethel Brownie. Mildred Milkyway. (“Wow friend, this is way too much at once.’) Cecilia Carrot Cake. Anna Rainbow Cookie. (“Good luck, friend, enjoy. One day at a time.”) Martha Strawberry Cake. (“Hang in there, girl.”) Jessie Chocolate Chips. Nina Fruit Snacks. Sarah Super Sour Scandinavian Swimmers. (“Best wishes, friend, I know that you will handle it all with grace.”) Geraldine Cheesecake.
I love my friends. When I try to play everything off as easy, and funny, and silly, because I am always trying to prove that I am just so damn “upbeat, clever and chill”, my friends play along, and yet at the same time, they hold me, and they love me, and they know me, and they hug me from afar. And they are with me. And then, I suddenly know that everything is going to be okay, mostly because I’ve got all of my girls in my back pocket. I know that the next time a “crisis” comes along, and I end up adeptly choosing to handle the situation, by astutely asking my dearest friends some off-the-wall, stupid, meaningless questions, they will answer me, as if it is a major priority in their lives. And they will laugh at my responses. And I will laugh at, and I will appreciate their responses. And all at the same time, my friends will shroud me in their love. And they will comfort me, and they will make me feel like I can handle anything. Treasure your truest friends, ladies, because they are your treasure. They’ll get you through it all, like no others can. I love you, my friends. You know who you are. Thank you for indulging me. Thank you for making me feel important enough to answer my “drag queen name request” at the most inconvenient of times, and at the same time, being so intuitively able to read between the lines. That’s love, my friends, and I feel it.
My husband is visiting his best friends from college this weekend. I met all of these guys, including my husband, when I was eighteen years old. This middle stage of life is full of so much change – our elders are becoming more fragile, our kids are gaining independence at warp speed, and the wrinkles on my face are unfortunately appearing at warp speed, too. Yet, certain things, the most important things, don’t change at all. In fact these things, that stand taller and become more obvious beacons than ever, are the steadying rocks, in this big, swirling sea of change. The things that don’t change are the feelings that we have for each other and the memories that we share.
My husband’s best friend is the salt-of-the-earth. Everyone who meets him, loves him. He loves kids, he loves his friends, he loves animals, and he loves his wife, and he loves his family. This man loves life. He has been a firefighter since we were in college. He fought the fires that raged on the Pentagon on 9/11. This man was the best man in our wedding, but before my husband and I got to that step in our relationship, I got more than one lecture from my husband’s best friend that I had better be kind and take care of his “meatball.” (my husband) When I first met my husband’s best friend’s extended family – a large, raucous, always laughing, always smiling, always joking, always having each others’ back, Irish family, I knew, in an instant, that I wanted to have a family just like theirs.
Last night, my husband texted me a picture of him, with his best friend and his best friend’s wife, all encircled in a big embrace. The picture screams, LOVE. And it warms my heart to no end, to know, that in this big, sometimes overwhelming stream of constant transition and change, the solid rocks remain steady. And they always will.
