Best Friends Forever

Two years ago, plans with my mom for her very first trip toEurope were in full swing. It’s hard to believe how fast the time flies. After that vacation in Paris – my all-time favorite city in the world, I thought it would be some time before I would be able to return and then something wonderful and unexpected happened. One of my very best friends, Josh, was relocated to the city of lights by his work. It was a dream come true, more probably for me than him, but a dream come true nonetheless. 

I first met Josh when I moved back to Boston for a brief period when I left San Francisco for the first time. It was the year 2000, I had been laid off, at a crossroads (one of many) in my life and I thought returning to the east coast was the answer. Despite how it turned out – moving back there brought me the best gift I could have asked for – a true friend that I could add to the few that I value so deeply in my life. At a party I somehow finagled an invite to – Josh was there with chocolate chip cookies and doling out his famous neck massages. We hit it off instantly, and shortly after, what I would soon discover was a very rare occurrence, he arranged a plan for a bunch of us to attend a sing-a-long Sound of Music night. One by one, the boys declined until there was only me. The two of us, instead, decided to meet for dinner in the South End, not far from his apartment.

And then the worry began. Would he think this was a date? Does he think I like him that way? And it was ironic that he was imagining the same thoughts and all through dinner, as we laughed and talked about I don’ t know what (probably about the two fat girls who were making life at my job unbearable - but that's another blog) – we fell instantly into a perfect friendship. 

From New Year’s Eve celebrations to nights getting drunk off our asses, to trudging through ten feet of snow to meet at Starbucks, the two of us were inseparable. I could not have asked for a better friend and when I made the decision to return to the west coast, I think he was afraid that I would be gone completely. However, he soon learned one of my greatest traits – I stay in touch with you until I know for sure that what I put out there is never returned. 

From there, it was countless visits to San Francisco and then to Los Angeles for him and vacations back in Boston for me, where I took over his living room with my infamous “crime scene” unpacking. In all these years, we have missed but two New Year’s Eve celebrations together. Our disagreements have been few and famous – but always, we’ve emerged stronger and better friends because of it. He’s pulled me up from the depths of despair more than he knows and I think I’ve pulled his head out of the oven more times than he's had it in it. We laugh a lot together and when the Sambuca arrives, I know we've reached the point of no return.

Last year, when he had to cancel meeting me in Palm Springs for his first business meeting in Paris, I easily forgave him. And, a week ago, I booked my flight to my favorite city in the world to see one of my favorite friends in the world.

I always let him do the cooking.

This year, with the time difference between us, our emails are always waiting for each other in our respective mornings. On weekends; I have been just stumbling home when he is finishing breakfast. The texts between are us during those overlapping hours are for the record books. And, this May, when I return to Boston for my parent’s golden anniversary, he’s letting me stay in his condo. I will try extremely hard to not create a crime scene.

When I arrive in Paris, I can’t wait to show him my favorite city haunts – from the bars, to the restaurants that I adore to just a walk along the River Seine, I know we’ll talk about how a fateful invite to a party changed the course of our lives. Not a day goes by that I am not grateful for the true friends I have in my life. They make all the craziness and stress surrounding everything else manageable. And when I sometimes think that returning to Boston was one of the biggest mistakes of my life – I remember that had I not, I would not have met Joshua. And, just so you know,  going to Paris has nothing to do with that thinking - but it sure doesn’t hurt.

Are there drag queens like this in Paris?

The Flat Downstairs

I have many memories of the flat downstairs from where I grew up. Mostly, surrounding my grandmother, Christine, which is no surprise to anyone who knows me or has read anything I’ve written. She was my entire world and for eight years, I had the joy of her company. Running downstairs when I came home from school, spending weekends watching her bake and spending time with her as she babysat my brother and me on those rare occasions my parents took a night out for themselves. Although smaller than our unit upstairs, the flat was still wondrous to me. From the statue of St. Anthony covered in plastic in my grandparents' bedroom, to the plastic that covered the chairs and couches, to the alcove that housed her gigadellis (Ghig-A-Day-Lees, it’s what we called chachkies), the flat downstairs was more my home than my own.

This past year, believe it or not was the first time I heard the story of how she fell in love with the house at 14 and 16 Carney Street in Medford. It brought all the memories flooding back and made me see the place I grew up in and left behind so many years ago in a different light.

 

After her passing, I hardly ever ventured downstairs and when my grandfather passed away, I never again set foot across the threshold. My uncle continued to call it home until his untimely passing and it was then that my parents rented the bottom floor. My father worked night and day restoring the unit to its earlier glory. The sparkling and shining hardwood floors were refurbished and restored to their original shine after being imprisoned by years of wall to wall carpeting. New doors, new appliances and bathroom fixtures replaced the familiar. From the pictures, I could hardly recognize the place. Where was my favorite blue glass poodle gigadelli that I had broken and glued back together because my grandmother warned me not to play with her knick knacks? Did the green plastic coated lamps survive in the storage of our attic? In a way, I mourned the loss of a different time as renter after renter took up residence. Through the years, some were horrible - taking the flat where I’d spent so much of my childhood for granted. They skipped out on the rent, left trash behind, threatened to take my parents to court, begged for a rent reduction while they demanded my parents look for a new tenant to replace the roommate who skipped out. Finally, three years ago, an incredible couple took up residence. They, like my grandmother had done in 1949, fell instantly in love with the house on Carney Street. They treated my parents with respect and lived in the flat downstairs as if it were going to be theirs forever.

But like all great things – their time there has ended and after getting married, the two are starting a family and moving, leaving me wondering what was going to happen now. And, then it happened – one of those full circle moments in life that I love so much – my brother and his partner are taking up residence in the flat downstairs. There among the memories that I hold so special, will be new wonderful moments to come. My father’s precious house – the one he holds so close to his heart is a full two family home once again. I will be able to go downstairs, sit in the alcove where my grandmother kept my blue glass poodle and its companions and remember all those special times. Although I would never travel back to Boston in the dead of winter, my brother’s famous Macy’s Christmas Store explosion decorations during the holidays will be a picture perfect memory that I’m looking forward to seeing within the walls where so much love and joy existed in our family. 

 

Over the years, I've often felt my grandmother around me almost as if she were there to pull me in my little red wagon like she did when I was a child. (No comments - I know I'm too big to fit in my little red wagon) But now, I know she is smiling seeing one of her grandsons take up residence in the place she loved so much.  For so many years, I have thought of the lower unit as just the flat downstairs, but these latest tenants have made me realize that it’s so much more.