Here's to old friends

I ran across this old photo today while I was de-cluttering. It's my "best good friend" (to put it Forrest Gump's way) Ginger and me, just a few short weeks after we became friends, which was right at ten years ago now. We went together to the "Fiesta on the River" event put on by the Residence Hall Association, and we were among the few who did. (As I recall, everyone else was camped out watching a new episode of Friends.) We had a fun time being goofy, watching the Folklorico dancers, and just enjoying the company of a new friend. That was back when I was leaving my dorm room unlocked at night so Gin could slip in to make sure I had gotten up for our 8:00 Old Testament class. That was back when Gin was the only girl I knew who drove a truck. Before we had laughed and cried collective hours together. Before the night we stayed up until the Wal-Mart store would let us have discarded boxes at 5AM, and we collected some scary "followers" at the Whataburger, where we had camped out to have shakes while we waited, trying to stay awake so we wouldn't miss our chance for free boxes. Before we decided to pledge APO together. Before Britt came into my life and challenged our fresh bond. Before Ginger's crazy suitemate threatened to have her hit man boyfriend kill her. Before Mema broke her leg right before Christmas, and I had to talk Gin into not driving 2 hours to be with me during my sadness. Before she decided to take a leap of faith and sign an apartment lease with me. Before all the boyfriends. Before footlong chili dogs from Sonic while Britt spent a semester in Europe. Before opening Jell-O boxes together, knowing one of us would be the unlucky one to find the ant family plaguing our pantry. Before all the cricket houses (cups, bowls, plates--whatever we could put over the crickets in our apartment until Britt would come kill them for us). Before dead batteries and lost keys. Before Gin's curriculum craziness and student teaching. Before her graduation. Before I was married; before she was a teacher. Before she came back for grad school. Before I finally graduated too! Before she patiently walked countless slow laps with me at the gym while I was fat pregnant. Before I was a mother. She was there. Before she graduated with a Master's Degree, and my daughter was there. Before she decided to move to Virginia where we were moving...and back again. Before my family settled comfortably into the law school years. Before she finally found Mr. Right and started planning her own wedding. Before. She was my friend before...before so many things we have known and so many things we have yet to know. It's wonderful making new friends, but it's so much more satisfying when you can look back long later and realize how much someone who was once just a new friend has actually been through with you...and she is not just any friend any more, but on old, dear friend. Your dearest friend. A friend who just gets you. A friend who just knows what you think without your saying your opinion. A friend you can count on to love you anyway, annoying idiosyncracies, faults, and all. In this picture are two girls who thought they were sooo grown up, who had so much left to learn and so much friendship and life ahead of them...together.

I love you, Ginger! Happy 10-Year Anniversary!

I HATE Affected Singing.

I nearly died last night when I game into the room to fuss about Aaron Neville butchering the National Anthem at the start of the Super Bowl, only to find Aretha Franklin singing it! For a second there, I really thought it had been Aretha that whole time, warbling the song in that horrid, ought-to-be-illegal-to-sing-that-way Aaron Neville styling. I think the blood fell out of my face during the time it took me to confirm that Aaron Neville had in fact been the "singer" who was making a mockery of our anthem. It was like the earth would have stopped spinning if Aretha had finally gotten so old and fat that she no longer sang soulfully but instead warbled ridiculously like Aaron Neville. What's the Queen of Soul doing allowing herself to do a public singing gig with that man anyway? Has her agent given up on her? I mean, she's admittedly older and heavier now, but she's still got it...maybe not as plainly as in the 60s, but Aaron Neville should never have been allowed on stage with that woman even at the peak of his so-called "talent." I wonder if he can even sing a song-- just SING it--without doing that obnoxious thing he does to it. I really don't think so. I think he's been doing that for so long that he just can't "interpret" music any other way. His "style" makes my skin crawl. The NFL could have anted up for someone better than Aaron Neville. Of course, all modern singers would jerk around with the song in Jessica Simpson's famous move-your-mouth-like-you're-chewing-the lyrics-not-singing-them way, or the squeeze-in-as-many-notes-as-possible-that-aren't-written-in-the-music way of everyone else. They can't just sing the notes with a nice voice...NO...have to contort the tune until it just sounds annoying...er, I mean "artistic." Drives me crazy. Screwing it up like that in the name of "artistry" is as disrespectful, in my opinion, as rubbing the American flag around on the fifty yard line, running across it and hollering "Go America!" would be. Why can't someone just SING it and therefore respect it and its significance and symbolism for our country. Singing the National Anthem is not about YOU. It's about taking time out to honor our country. But we can't hear and reflect on the words for the warbling! Just SING it. Don't "interpret" it or "stylize" it. JUST SING. Of course, that would mean bearing your raw "talent" for all hear. And we might just discover how little of it there is. That's why you all hide behind your "style," even when being afforded the honor of singing the National Anthem at a nationally-televised event. It's pathetic.

I have a thing against McDonald's.

I find it ironic that Sesame Street is heavy on the nutrition education these days, and yet it is "brought to you" by McDonald's. What good is it that Grover is telling kids that fruits and vegetables make you strong if McDonald's was just on the screen seconds ago, giving them mental visions of PlayLand and french fries? I make it a point not to take my kid to McDonalds, and yet she is well aware of who Ronald McDonald is (thanks to the in-house McDonald's in our local Wal-Mart). (She is almost consistently NOT calling him Donald Duck now too.) I think the child has been in McD's less than five times, and those times were either a) out of my control or b) for breakfast only, which is an acceptable reason to eat there. I've taken a lot of flack for my avoidance of the Happy Meal, as though that were some rite of passage or something. Well, I can tell you my kid gets just as much enjoyment out of Burger King's Little Tikes toys for toddlers in their kid meals (plus they will give you choices other than fries) or the virtue books at Chik-Fil-A. I don't even know what comes in a Happy Meal other than an awful burger. That's enough for me. (I realize they probably offer a fruit option now too...but that's beside the point.) The only time I can remember going to McDonald's as a child was when Michel Johnson's birthday party was there, and we all climbed into their big blue conversion van to head for the party together. The only other time I'd ever seen those freaky puffy creatures that look like they are made out of colored french fries was on TV commercials. But when I grew up , I didn't feel deprived. My family didn't do kid meals (in fact we rarely ate out), and I don't feel like I lost out on a treasure of childhood. Everyone has his own thing. Mine was getting a Moon Pie at a truck stop on the way to/from Granny's house with Dad. Britt's was Christmas hot dogs because his family tended to travel on Christmas, and that's about the only thing you can find to eat at the kinds of places that are open on Christmas. I'd like for my kids to have something more unique to look back on together in moments of nostalgia than their Happy Meals.