Old Age Day by Day May 11, 2011

I've just finished emailing two women who were childhood friends, neither of whom I've seen for many years. One is out here now from Florida, and the other is spending a week with me in June. We went to the same school in the same tiny town from ages 8 to 14, then I moved far away. The woman who is here ended up being mentored by my parents and moving here, and she and her husband and daughter often had Thanksgiving or Christmas with my folks. So I occasionally have seen them until they retired to Florida about five years ago. The other woman was my childhood best friend, and I've only seen her about four times since we were both inseparable an kids and teens. We've lived far apart, and both had a lot of kids and not much money for travel. She's now retired and has been talking about coming out for about three years. I never thought it would happen. But she's got the ticket, and it will be interesting to catch up. With both women I know we'll laugh a lot. We were gigglers then and we're gigglers now.

I'm reading "The Help", as so many people have recommended it, and it reminds me of living in the South in that era. I was in Virgina, and the book is set in Mississippi, but I also lived in Alabama, so the dialogue and situations feel familiar. But my father wasn't a believer of segregation, he was fighting to integrate the factories, so we were interlopers. Almost freaks. Luckily, my parents were so amiable and tactful, they did make friends and so did I, despite are coming from a strange place called California. We were really considered strange because my mother was the only one in town without a maid. She did all the housework, ironing, cooking etc herself. But somehow she had time for bridge clubs and cocktail parties and trips to Richmond for shopping and lunch. I also did housework and had chores, as did my brother. I developed skills that I've certainly used in later life much more than any other. Well, except for cooking. My Mom liked people to stay out of her kitchen, so when I married at nineteen, I had to begin by burning a lot of rice and cooking a lot of scrambled eggs and toast. I've improved since then, but my rice is still always sticky rice.

So I'm thinking Southern these days, and realizing what an odd position my family was in - liberal and pro integration in a town separated in all the same ways as the setting in the novel. It's enlightening reading what might the the story of one of the the women who is coming to visit.