Boomer Musings-Friends, family, and toilet paper

By J. Leslie Riseden

Do you dread family gatherings for fear of yet another dust-up over Aunt Gertrude’s brooch? Are you still angry at Chip because of that loan he never repaid? Have you been skipping game night because Hank is such a sore loser? Maybe you’re avoiding returning that call from Elvira because (as my mother once quipped) “She has nothing to say...and she insists on saying it.” One thing I have relished about passing the 60-mark is the freedom to examine my relationships, and consider what I get from them. I don’t mean material things, of course. I am fortunate enough to have most everything I need, and a lot of the things I want. I’m talking about other benefits ... such as shared values, common interests, intellectual stimulation, joy and whimsy, empathy, acceptance. Most of us have friends or family who fill one or two of these needs; very few of us find someone who fills all of them. We all have friends of different categories. There are those precious few that remain from childhood. You know ... you were inseparable in high school, then drifted apart a little as each stage of adulthood carried you further in different directions: college, work, marriage, children, divorce, grandchildren, retirement, death. Yet, at each milestone in life, there is always a personal note or a phone call that somehow melts away both distance and time. Then, there are those friendships we form during each of those life stages: college buddies, co-workers, bunkmates, support groups, hobby clubs, and such. We tend to compartmentalize these friendships, as they are built around a single shared interest or problem. So, when we change jobs, or lose interest in an activity, or recover, most of those relationships die a natural death. Some survive, and become true and lasting friendships. I have friends with whom I share an interest in one thing or another, and other friends with whom I have little in common, other than just enjoying each other’s company. And, I have “true” friends, with whom I have shared both the most heart-wrenching and the most joyous of times. These are the friends described in that old saying: “A friend knows what you did; a true friend will help you hide the evidence.” As for relatives, I suppose I might be one of those rare birds who just loves family reunions, because I love all my relatives and in-laws, and thoroughly enjoy the precious little time I get to spend with them. Most of my parents’ generation were military, and we sometimes went years without a visit, so when we did get together, it would be unthinkable to stay in a motel. Kids gave up their bedrooms to the adults, and all the little cousins slept on pallets made of quilts (quilts that doubled as fort material during the day.) We played together, as a family, day and night. And, we knew that when we parted, it might be years again before we saw each other. To this day, on rare family gatherings, that mixed feeling of joy and melancholy remains. I have extraordinary friends, and a warm loving family, both of which I treasure. What I don’t have in my life are people I don’t respect, people with negative attitudes, people who are unkind, and people who put the toilet paper on backwards. A person must, after all, have her standards