Good friends


This past Sunday was Grandparents Day and the man who thought this idea a good one, lived in Brooks at the time. This was about 1975 but I don’t remember the year the holiday came into fruition.

Mike was his name and he also got the idea he wanted to buy Starr’s Mill, which is how we met. He called me to get its history and shortly thereafter we began to date. Mike was an interesting character and fascinating to talk to. It wasn’t long, though, before I realized he really didn’t have much money and certainly not enough to buy Starr’s Mill.

He was a nice person, however, and the thing I appreciated about him the most was the fact that many of our dates included my 7 year old daughter.

One time he brought her a big turtle in an empty fish tank and I made the mistake of carrying into the house. It wasn’t long before a very unpleasant odor permeated the house, and the turtle was placed on the front porch.

In full disclosure, I learned that a woman somewhere in the East has also stated she was the one who started Grandparents Day.

Mike loved to write poems and I have several small booklets he autographed to me. He died quite unexpectedly a few years later and I treasure his poetry and his attention to my family.

We all know the importance of good friends. I define a “good friend” as one you can call at 2 a.m. and ask them to come to your house right away without explaining why first and they come right over.

Some 15 years ago or so, I was assigned to cover a motorcycle club meeting at the IHOP in Fayetteville. The members were relatively close to my age, their concern for safety boggled my mind, and I kept returning for the meetings.

I ended up joining the Gold Wing Road Riders and they were very patient with me for nearly a year while I saved the money for a full helmet with a radio, boots that came up over my ankles, long sleeve shirts, and graduating from co-rider classes.

Many of the couples each had a motorcycle and so for several years I rode with Sam.

Many of those first folks I met are still in the club. Because I live in a senior citizen housing section, plus I don’t have a man handy in my house and any in my area are as disabled as I am, I have come to depend on my motorcycle friend, Keith.

I have reached a point that if I have to walk anywhere outside my house I can only do so with a walker.

To even buy groceries requires having someone pick me up, take me to the store, help me with the buggy, bring me home and put up my groceries. Motorcycle club members Keith and Linda help me with this.

I feel very privileged to have good friends through the years and thank the Lord for them all.