My wife and

I had just boarded a train in Cairns, in northeast Australia, for an hour-and-a-half

ride up the mountains to the rain forest. We waited in the warm winter

sun, for that is the season there at this time of the year, and, when

the whistle blew, we clamored aboard Car #6, which was in the middle of

the train. We sat side by side in a seat designed to equip four people

facing another seat of the same design.

In a few minutes,

the trained had filled with people and left the station. Cindy sat next

to the window with me at her left. To my left was a Canadian couple that

had retired to South Carolina and across from us sat four ladies that

I estimated to be in their 70s, or perhaps early 80s. They were all originally

from Southern New Jersey, although one of them currently lived in North

Carolina. It wasn't long before we learned that they had all been friends

since their youth.

The apparent

ringleader of the group, for she was the one that kept the conversation

lively and constant, had been married, in the 1940's, to a professional

baseball player. He had come up in the minor leagues with Tommy Lasorda

but, as Lasorda had gone with the Dodgers, he had become part of the New

York Giants. We talked about the state of major league baseball and about

young millionaires threatening to strike.

She dismissed

the modern players with a sniff and a wave of her hand and, in her distinct

New Jersey accent, even more prominent "down under," talked

about the days when her husband made $50 a game playing the sport he loved.

In her opinion, the real men of baseball, with a few exceptions, had long

passed from the scene.

These ladies,

so full of life and laughter, had all been married in the 1940s and, along

the way, all had become widowed. Yet, throughout the decades, they had

remained close friends and, for years, had taken vacations together. They

loved England and Scotland, they shared, and had really enjoyed Rome.

They had traveled

in the United States, too, and, now, here they were in Australia 10,000

miles from New Jersey and North Carolina, riding a train to get to a rain

forest.

Their friendship

had endured for at least 50 years and they seemed prepare to make the

most out of the next 50. After an hour or so of watching the interaction

between them, I had to ask, "Have you ladies, by chance, seen 'The

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood?'" Not only had they seen

the movie, they laughed, they had all read the book. They then began to

discuss the various characters in the book.

The "Ya-Ya

Sisterhood," of course, is all about several little girls who became

fast friends in childhood and maintained that closeness into their golden

years. Throughout their lives, in the fictional story, they watched out

for each other and helped the others when needed. "No doubt about

it," I silently mused, "these gals are the real Ya-Ya's."

During the

walk around the little town where we debarked the train, we kept running

into the Ya-Ya's, as Cindy and I now affectionately called them (behind

their backs, of course). We could see them helping each other in and out

of seats, holding doors open, helping each other across the busy streets,

and calling to the others when one made an interesting discovery. These

women didn't just like each other-they absolutely loved each other.

These weren't

elderly, feeble persons either! Although they had gray hair, except for

the ballplayer's wife who proudly shared that she was a "brunette

from a bottle," and had been AARP members for years and years, they

were full of vitality, humor, laughter, and life. Finally, later in the

day, we all ate in the same restaurant and, though they appeared a bit

weary, they were excited about what the next day would bring.

Later, I thought,

"It isn't too early or too late to start making friends like that."

I hope that, for both my wife and myself, we will have the same kind of

enduring friends to the end of our days. When all is said and done, aside

from "treasure laid up in heaven," the only things that really

last, that truly endure, are family and friends.

Long live the

Ya-Ya's! May they be there for each other for decades to come!

[The Reverend

Canon David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church

in the Coweta/Fayette County area of south metro Atlanta. He may be contacted

at [email protected] or at www.ctkcec.org.]