I dont remember not knowing her

My best friend Tracy is an amazing person.  I just stumbled across an e-mail from her a while ago.  She had me in tears, first with laughter, then tears of loss for her with her memory of our lives as little girls, her soft underbelly showing.  Something she rarely shows.  She is a complicated person.  Yet to me she is comfortable and knows she is in a safe place.  Not many people are as blessed as I am to be able to call  someone friend who has known me since the beginning of my memories.  Tracy is funny, thoughtful, compassionate and fun to be around.  It is too bad our paths do not cross more.  She too has a house on the Delmarva Peninsula.  Who would have thought we both would have a second home to go to on the weekends!?

I've found this photo of us and my Dad.  It has to be the summer of 1970.  Dad had a new camera and was learning how to use the timer.  Tracy and I must have been willing participants in the learning!
Dad took a wonderful series of photos that fall of the 3 sisters, my brother Mike and his new bride and their new son David.  Alas there are few of him. 

Here are Tracy's thoughts on our childhood....Just a few... She lets me in a little at a time....

 

Was looking at your blog last night.  Really like it.  You are so in tune with your family and others around you.  What an honor to know someone even reads my thoughts!  Of all people my Tracy.

 Found the entry re: your dad’s recent birthday interesting.  The whole bluebird troop was there?  I had probably quit by then.  But must say I was very surprised/disappointed when I woke up that morning and discovered that I wasn’t going to your dad’s funeral, but to school. You were a best friend.  I did feel that I was supposed to be there. I think my parents didn’t want me to experience funerals. They weren’t good at it either.  My mom told me recently how she got dressed up to go to Roseanne’s brother Joseph’s funeral and then just couldn’t bring herself to go. The first funeral I ever went to was for Betina’s sister, not that it was ever something I “wanted” to experience. Would prefer people just go on living.

I do remember Mrs. Kunz asking me about you at school that day and telling her that your dad had died, then going to the bathroom to cry.

Remember dropping off a shoebox of valentines for you after school. My valentine box full of cards.  I remember that so well.  All the love poured into that box I had made with so much hope....Alas it would be decades until I found my true love. 

Your house was dark and quiet and there was an overwhelming feeling of sorrow.  I really have very little memory of the time after my Dad died.  I do know I could not leave my Mom's side...my Dad was gone and my life was so unsure.

Can’t remember when Tiger Lilly (who plopped down and ate one of your white patent leather shoes with red lace ribbons . . . after racing around your dining room table playing keep away with us) moved away -- when your dad first became ill or later.

I don’t ever remember seeing your dad smoke and always had this story in my head that he worked in the coal mines in Pennsylvania for a brief period in his youth.  I have lots of false memories like this. I don’t know where they come from.  Sometimes they scare me.

I remember you coming to our house in the mornings for breakfast before school for awhile.  I had the room next to the living room with a bed that folded up into the wall and was held up with pegs.  I remember that bed.  It was so cool.  Hoover just whipped it up...it seemed like in a weekend.  It may have taken longer.  He was quite handy with wood.  He made  your kitchen cabinets too.

I remember you calling your mom when you got home from school each day.  I had a code to talk to her.  If I didn't want to do something after school the code was "how about".  IF I said how about I do whatever.  She knew the answer was no!  Amazing Mom.

I remember you reconciling your mom’s checkbook at your dining room table (that must have been junior high or high school?).  It was my job in 11th and 12th grade to balance her checkbook, write the checks and mail the bills in a timely fashion.  Taught me about money like no one else I knew at the time.  A redeeming quality Tim really liked in me.  My ability to balance a checkbook, save and not spend money like water!

I remember looking all over the neighborhood on a very windy day, for Richard Segar’s knit hat “that his grandmother made for him” which you plucked from his head and tossed up into a tree, since he was not in the mood to play keep away with us that day.  Some people have no sense of humor.  I think that was 7^th grade? That is one of Roseanne's favorite childhood stories!  Ricky Segar!  Mr. Military!

 . . . Turned out he had come back to the tree earlier and retrieved his hat and took great delight in our having to scour the neighborhood for several hours looking for it.

 

Thank you for the memories Tracy.  Thank you for being the best friend a girl could hope for.