Linda and I met when she was three and I was four. My grandparents had insisted that Mom and Dad buy the house next door to them, the middle one of three on East 20th Street. Facing them, Grandma and Grandpa lived on the right, and Linda's family on the left.
On the other side, Grandpa had an empty city lot where he grew enough vegetables to feed the neighbors. Linda and I were given a plot next to the garage where we tried growing things, like the beets we sold to White's Market for dimes--big bucks for a six-year-old in 1957! Grandpa made sure there were tomato plants within our reach--luscious little yellow globes that we loved warm from the vine. Potatoes, too, and we rummaged in the dirt during the harvest, munching on tiny new potatoes with the fragrant soil still clinging to them. Yum!
Linda and I lived quite literally eight feet apart. We would talk from our upstairs windows, and rigged a basket with pulleys to send things to each other. When I wanted to play, there was no need to use a phone, just, "HEY! LIN-DAAH!!" from the front walk. We played games in our joint driveway, we harassed her sisters mercilessly together; we cooked on the big old grill (I got food poisoning) and waded in the pool. We had a talcum powder fight at her house--why her mother didn't kill us, I don't know. We tried our hand at candy-making (had to throw out the pan and all from one batch), pulling taffy and making fudge, What a good life! What a great friendship!
Jane was the third member of our trio. She lived in a perfect big grey house behind me. ("HEY! JAN-EEEE!") A hole in the neighbor's fence provided easy access to Linda's backyard. Jane was the first to get a REAL Barbie doll. AND Ken. Once we tried to make dinner to surprise her folks. The spaghetti was like glue and the Jello mold melted, but at least we gave it a shot. We often played in the corner field with other neighborhood kids, Mike and Mike, Debbie and Debbie, Judy and Robert, Russell, Mary and Ricky and so many more. One day we were playing "Statue", whirling till we were dizzy. Jane fell and broke her collarbone. Jane hurt, but I wonder if she knew even then that her friends were hurting for her?
Despite marriages and kids and grandkids, death of our parents, moving closer and moving away, here we are again. We had a saying back then when we had a disagreement--"let's be funny bunnies!" It meant forgive and forget, let's play together and start over. We're too good as friends to be anything else.
Fifty-odd years later. Has it been that long? The bond is still there. The talk remains. The games have changed. We are all good cooks these days. The memories are intact, secrets still safe. Some of the gang has reconnected (Hi, Mike!), some are not to be found. Our paths have crossed again, and this time there will be no sidetracking.
Hey! Lin-daah! Hey! Jan-eee! Don't you wish everybody could be Funny Bunnies?
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