Old friends

Based on recent news, it sounds like Illinois politics is like high school politics. Blago is like the captain of the wrestling team, doing whatever it takes to make a lower weight class so he can kick some scrawny kids’ ass, stealing other kids’ papers and cheating on tests so he can keep his GPA above a C- and avoid getting kicked off the team. Obama is the head of student council, respected by peers and teachers for his integrity and wit, uncomfortable with Blago’s hijinks but busy doing his own thing and happy to steer clear of the wrestling team. Every once in awhile they have to get together to plan a pep rally or some such nonsense, but for the most part they travel in different circles.

When I was in high school, I hung out with neither the sports bullies nor the student government geeks. I was one of the parking lot slackers, i.e., the kids who hung out in the parking lot and smoked cigarettes during lunch period and skipped as many classes as possible. My closest friend from high school, Kirsten, just visited with her husband and her three children. It’s surprising how easy it is to fall into some old habits when you’re with old friends. We did a lot of hanging around during high school, watching TV, eating too much, stealing beer, doing all kinds of things that got me into trouble. I think Kirsten probably got in trouble, too, but it didn’t seem like her parents disliked her during our high school years. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was fun to hang out at her house, even when her parents were there. And not because they were the kind of parents who didn’t mind if we drank in their basement (they weren't). They were just easygoing, funny, nice people to be around. I even moved in with her family for a couple of months during a particularly tumultuous period in my own home during senior year. Her parents welcomed me into their home and didn’t ask too many questions. I will always be grateful to them for their kindness during that time.

During earlier, less tumultuous times, maybe sophomore year, when Kirsten and I would hang out at my house, one of our favorite things to do was to make a big bowl of melty Rice Krispie Treats and eat it with a spoon. We didn’t bother with a pan. We weren’t even high during the Rice Krispie Treat phase (that didn’t come until later). We were bored, and it tasted good. My home, for all its flaws, was always well-stocked with junk food.

Needless to say, during her recent visit, my home was better stocked with junk food than it usually is. I went to the grocery store and loaded up on cookies, chips, cheese and crackers, cold cuts and condiments. I don’t often have much junk food in my adult home. These days, it’s Whole Foods all the way. But, you can’t force old friends to eat like rabbits. The culinary tone of the visit was set during their first night in town. We went out to a rib place that we used to frequent, back in the day, called Twin Anchors. I hadn’t remembered that the plates of ribs at this restaurant were Fred Flintstone-sized. I know that, a dozen years ago, they were my first-ever introduction to ribs, and I thought they were delightful. I suppose it’s not a bad thing that my tastes run more towards lighter fare these days. I’m suspect that Kirsten’s tastes do, too, but we had to revisit one of the old haunts. Like I said, old friends, old habits.

Actually, junk food was the only bad old habit we revisited in any serious way. We smoked no cigarettes, ingested no illicit substances, didn’t even drink too much beer. We were in bed before 11:00. Having small kids will knock some bad habits out of you, at least temporarily. It’s necessary for survival – your own and theirs. Even though we played it pretty straight, it still felt slightly subversive to have my old friend in my house with my kids. It’s hard to take yourself seriously as a mommy in the presence of someone who has grooved out with you on the brain-colors of “Terrapin Station.” I haven’t kept in close touch with too many of my friends from those days. Part of it is laziness and distance – I went to high school a thousand miles away from here (literally and figuratively) -- but a bigger part of it is that I have changed so much since then. I hardly recognize the self that I remember. It was a dismal period in my life, and it’s taken a long time to get past it. I went to my twentieth reunion last year, and, when I got home, I dissolved into a puddle from all of the memories that it stirred up. I don’t particularly want to go back and revisit high school anymore.

But being around Kirsten is different. We spent some time as grown-ups living just two city blocks away from each other in Chicago, and Craig and her now-husband Carl became close during that time, as well. She has known me as a shy and insecure kid and as a not-so-shy, reasonably happy adult, and she has been my friend through it all. It was surreal to see her mini-me four-year-old daughter and my own daughter play together. They are crazy about each other. Lots of hugs and zero arguments ensued during twelve straight hours of serious toy-sharing. My continuing friendship with Kirsten hints that, even though I was so different than I am now, the core of my self is the same. Even as a miserable, bored, insecure kid, perhaps there was something there worth cherishing.