Friends and Family

A Note from my beautiful daughter:

visits from family and friends

I drove to my parents' house in Roswell on Friday afternoon, after I finished a group meeting, to spend some time with my family and our long-time friends, the Thomases, before I head to New Orleans for Fall Break on Wednesdays. We've known the Thomas family FOREVER--George, the dad, was my first soccer coach and the man who fought for and won permission for me to play with the boys until we left Minnesota. Dylan, the oldest Thomas son, was my soccer partner and best friend. Kris, the momma, used to braid my hair (my momma didn't know how), because she didn't have any daughters. Ryan, the second oldest son, was Hobo's best friend. And Alex, their youngest son (who accompanied George and Kris to Roswell for the weekend) was a few years behind Hurricane but--thanks to Dylan and Ryan--capable of holding his own with the older kids. For years, they lived around the corner from my family in the small Minnesota town, Eden Prairie, where I grew up. They moved to Winona, Minnesota (where Daddy and George had gone to college) sometime shortly after my family moved to Arizona...and every summer, when my daddy's best college buddies gather with their wives/husbands/children for a weekend reunion (called GOOF--Get-together Of Old Friends), the Thomases host a huge backyard bbq in their home.

Seeing my parents around their closest friends is one of the most relaxing, comforting environments I've ever stepped foot into. The hustle and bustle of daily life stops, and suddenly everybody is slow and calm. The liquor starts flowing early, and it doesn't stop until the last friend standing has finally agreed to go to sleep. Nobody bothers to cook--instead, food is heaped in incredible quantities and varieties upon the kitchen counters, and everyone fixes what they want, when they want. Things like stuffed olives, crackers and cheese, tabbouleh and tapenade, hummus and hunks of fresh bread, become the mainstay of our time together. Daddy loosens up enough to swear and talk about all the things he never talks about. Music plays nonstop on the little speakers set up around our house, and it becomes a game to guess who is singing, the name of the song, and whether or not the song was originally written (or recorded) by somebody else. Stacks of books line the coffee tables, and every once in a while somebody will collapse on the couch and start flipping pages. My puppy goes wild with affection, taking nibbles cautiously dropped from generous kitchen-going fingertips. And in this time of year, there's always a fire--and though it's too cold for comfort outside, it seems so much warmer and brighter with all the company around.

I've grown up around my parents' friends. Summers, weekend trips, nearby neighbors, phone calls on a Sunday evening...they are a constant presence in my life, hovering and telling jokes, keeping everyone together, smoothing out the wrinkles and the stress of daily life. At any given moment, I have 20 sets of parents to fall back on, and so many "brothers" and "sisters" that it's impossible to count. I'm the second-oldest of this entire, long-standing crew...and it's incredible to have watched SO many kids grow up and change and become the people they are today. Throughout my entire life, I've never wished for a stable, solid romantic relationship--but instead I've searched for these types of friendships, for the people who will sit around with you all day--who will get hammered at funerals with you and cry by your side--who will yell at my nonexistant children when they make mistakes--who will visit my children (even if they don't know them well) and tip them when they're waiting tables in New Orleans all summer.

Thank you Lesley for your beautiful thoughts and insights. I love you.