“When you think about things in terms of mathematics it gives you perspective. Things actually do make sense, but you have to look at them differently. If you look at the units, it works out.” This is what my son said to me a few months back and I thought it was so profound, I felt compelled to write it down.
I like to think of the relationships in my life in terms of circles. I have met so many people; the good, the bad and the ugly in my lifetime that I find it challenging to categorize them. Acquaintances, friends, best friends, work friends, school friends…friends. To me, friends are the family you get to choose. I know in my childhood I had several friends, but one has been in my life since we were 4 years old. I don’t recall how Timmy and I met, but those were the days when a child could wander around the neighborhood freely. I had to stay on the block, but I could go round and round the block all day, just as long as I was home for dinner and by the time the street lights came on. There were no such things as “play dates” that were arranged by parents. Nope, we met friends by being friendly all on our own.
To get to Timmy’s house, I would need to cross a street, so there must have been some parental permission involved. Odds are, we saw each other and started to talk, or yell at each other while standing on opposite sides of the boarder of 36th street. At some point, permission was granted, we took turns carefully crossing that street and the rest is history. Timmy came to my house from time to time because he would pass it on his way to and from school, but the majority of our friendship was spent at his house. He has 3 younger siblings, so there were more kids over there to play with. The huge maple tree still stands on the corner of the property that was “goo” or “safe” when playing the many hours of tag. Being a corner lot, there seemed to be miles and miles of play space. Not really, but the expanses of lawn felt huge. I’m certain they felt larger to Timmy since he was the one who usually had to mow the lawn, but needless to say we had ample space to play countless rounds of Red Light/Green Light, to put on our circus performances and to have failed Kool-Aid stands (we didn’t realize that his mom used sugar, oops).
Yes, Timmy was my first best friend. During the summer, we both had short hair and people would think that we were both boys. During the winter, we both had longer hair and people would mistake us for two girls. I have a memory of one summer after I had “developed” when Timmy yelled at the person who thought I was a boy, “Would a boy have boobs like that?!” Yes, he was valiant and I appreciated being defended by my friend. I could go on and on about my memories of our friendship, the “show me yours and I’ll show you mine” chapter, mud pies and bike rides (on banana seat bikes, thank you very much) chapters, but most importantly is the chapter when Timmy’s family moved away that is burned into my memory bank.
It was the summer before 7th grade and I was devastated by Timmy’s news. My best friend of 8 years was moving to a place I could not walk to, nor ride my banana seat bike. His father had done well financially and they were moving to a much nicer neighborhood and having a house built just for them! Timmy was not only moving away, he was moving up and our relationship would change drastically. We stayed in touch and there were a few visits to his fancy house that was 10 miles away. Ten miles, that was all it was, but the divide between us grew larger with each passing year. We both changed, we had different interest, different social experiences, different everything and eventually it was too different between us that we went our separate ways. Yet, somehow we remained connected. I really don’t recall how, maybe it was through Christmas cards his mother sent my family. However, I do have memories of our paths crossing from time to time at movie theaters or in the city. Timmy would recognize my hair, from behind, at a distance! Yes, my hair is that memorable, it has a life all its own and he would recognize it. We’d have a brief conversation and once again, go our separate ways.
Once again, I don’t recall how it came to be, but I invited him to my wedding. When he came strolling through the park it was held at, the same park that we had played at for so many years as children, he was a handsome grown man wearing a suit and tie, a knight in shining armor. I hadn’t seen him in years and we hadn’t communicated much during that time. It was then that he said the oddest thing to me. I was moving to New York after the wedding and he said that he was going to miss me. I asked, how that was possible since we hadn’t seen each other in years. “I have always known that you were here, but now you won’t be.” was what he said. How odd I thought, but I suppose that is what I have been to so many people in my life. I am a home base, “goo” or “safe”. I am a memory that so many people refer to as “home”. I didn’t make that connection at the time, but looking back, Timmy was my “goo” as well and always would be, no matter the units of space and time between us.
As the story goes, my marriage did not end well. Shortly before it’s demise, I reunited with Timmy through letters. I had begun to dream about him, me saving him and I reached out to his mother to see if he was okay. He was fine, but had come to a crossroads in his life and I think it was very important to him to have someone he knew forever, to be good with his choices. Now, I was at a crossroads and needed support, which he freely provided in the form of letters and phone calls, nourishment for my soul. I had told him about the hellish nightmare of my current situation. I was mentally and spiritually broken and I was financially broke as well. I had two small children and no child support, but thankfully I had my father to keep us from being homeless. It was that year, 24 years ago, 27 years into our life long friendship that I received one of the most profound gifts of my life.
It was Christmas time and Timmy sent me a Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham. I knew how expensive they were and I was thrilled beyond belief that he had sent me such an extravagant gift. I was financially broke, but now I was going to be able to feed my family a delicious Christmas meal, thanks to Timmy’s gift. I called him and thanked him profusely. He told me that it was no big deal, that he sends them to many people, but to me this was like receiving the lottery. From that year on, every Christmas I receive a Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham from Timmy. For years, I didn’t make the connection, but one year I finally did and I voiced my thanks to him more formally. You see, I finally realized that he wasn’t just sending me food to feed my family, he was sending me so very much more. Each and every year, Timmy sends me the gift of hope, something I so desperately needed that first Christmas after my marriage ended and continue to need from time to time.
For the past 24 years, our Christmas family tradition is to dine on a gifted Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham, my mother’s version of scalloped potatoes, green beans and Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. Every year, we feast on ham that day and for days later, due to the abundance of love and support Timmy sends me. I refer to it as the Ham of Hope. I will continue to share my story to all that will listen, for as long as I live about the year my life hit the fan and I received the most wonderful gift. It is my sincerest hope that the legend will be told for many years past my own, of how sometimes, all we need is a little hope. It comes in many shapes and sizes and sometimes, if you are as lucky as I am, it comes wrapped in foil and feeds your family many delicious meals, all served up with love. May everyone be so blessed to have such wonderful unconditional love in their lives.
Gail + Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham = Unconditional Love
Suddenly, my circle feels less empty.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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