Steve's parents moved here from Kansas our sophomore year in high school and, until that time, I had never actually been friends with a guy. I had a different best friend almost every year of my life until high school and I had two sisters...but no brothers.
Steve and I both had braces and were skinny and neither of us had quite grown into our faces. Both of us came from strictly middle-class families and there weren't a lot of extras, so it went without saying that neither of us had a car of our own. We bummed a lot of rides from other people. Coincidentally, our parents had both purchased hideous Ford Torinos with only AM radio and we were occasionally allowed to drive them. Ours was metallic gold and theirs was silver. We were not cool and we struggled with our self-esteem.
Both us of got jobs at Six Flags. He swam for the school team and was an artist. I was in the choir and German club. We both joined AFS, the club that sponsors the foreign exchange students and we became the club's officers. We placed into the same advanced writing class our senior year. We talked on the phone about every other day--much to the consternation of our parents-- but we never dated. We graduated and went to different colleges but we kept up with each other. We called and sent cards. We got together on weekends. Once he wrote me an entire letter on toilet paper. I still have it.
I think he was the first non-family person to love me unconditionally, though I don't think we ever said that to one another until we were adults. In the years we've been friends we've never stopped laughing in the presence of one another.It is my fondest wish to make him dissolve with uncontrollable mirth and he never fails to do the same for me. In fact, he's the funniest human I know and after we've been together, my face hurts from the strain of the laughing. He's the only person who could tell a story about being mugged in New York or an old woman falling down a flight of stairs and I would have to hold my sides to keep them from exploding. My kids know that he's the brother I never had.
This month marks the 31st year that Steve ambled into my life. He's been a numbers guy, an actor and now a visual artist. I've been a teacher and a writer a wife and mother. He's the gypsy friend who has lived in a million different places ( there's a big hole in my address book where I've erased and rewritten his place of residence over and over) but I've mostly been right here, but whenever we talk, we pick up the thread of conversation so easily. We're always on the other's mental map.
I pause in this moment to thank him for the experiences...healthy and unhealthy...that we've experienced together. There's a lot of alcohol water under those bridges, my friend, and we're lucky...VERY lucky that we're both here and in one piece. Thank you for:
* My first scrape with the school authorities when we both got kicked out of the library by the principal for being too rowdy.
* For that New Year's Eve we stood in the Maguire's backyard drinking cooking saki with the Japanese foreign exchange student.
* The New Year's Eve we drank a bottle of champagne on the way to Dallas and turned cartwheels in the lobby of Reunion Tower.
*The east Dallas movie house of questionable repute. We weren't sure whether or not your mother's car would be up on jacks when we got out. It wasn't.
*The weekends I flew down to Houston to hit the beach with you...
*The night we drank Kamikazes at Cork & Cleaver...how did we get home?
* PikeFest. I'll leave it at that.
*The fact that you risked another confrontation with your parents to fly in from Maryland (and stay with them) for my wedding. You had only recently "come out" to your parents and things weren't good between you. You were...and are...a true friend.
*You being around (or shortly after) for the births of all my sons.
*Being there to celebrate each other's 40th birthdays.
*Wanting nothing but happiness and fulfillment for each other since 1975. That's quite a lot.
My life wouldn't be the same without you.
I wish everyone had a Steve in their lives...in fact...it's possible that you already do. Tell me about that person.
I've moved around also, so never made a lot of close friends, until high school. I will always think the world of Craig. He always knows the right things to say. I miss talking to him. He's around,in another state, but we can't communicate. Long story. Not worth repeating. I just hope he knows how much I love him and think of him often. He really was my best friend.
Posted by: Brenda | September 12, 2006 at 11:50 PM
Neil (not Neil Kramer) and I have been friends since 7th grade when we were introduced to each other because we both liked Cat Stevens and were considered hippy freaks in an Elton John and Steve Miller Band world. We scheduled every class together. In high school, together we were voted: Most Likely to Succeed and Most Literary. (We were pissed we were not voted funniest.) He always encouraged me with my writing. Today Neil's a highly-respected surgeon. I'm one of the few people who know how drop-dead funny he is and what an absolutely brilliant writer he can be.
Posted by: V-Grrrl | September 13, 2006 at 03:24 AM
What a great friendship. You two are very lucky.
I'm planning an upcoming post about C.S., my friend who moved to LA a few months ago, and how nothing has changed except her zip code.
Posted by: Arabella | September 13, 2006 at 08:26 AM
Wow. What perfect timing. I just posted about my friend Christine helping to restore my faith in women.
I think you and I are sharing a brain today.
PS. LOVE this post.
Posted by: Jenny | September 13, 2006 at 10:41 AM
Here's to Steve! Any friend of WordGirl's has got to be a pretty awesome person.
My best friend in jr. high and high school was a guy also. Adam and I managed to remain in touch all the way through our 10th high school reunion, but my asshole ex-husband was jealous of our relationship and forced him out of my life. Thanks for reminding me that I really should look him up.
Posted by: TB | September 13, 2006 at 11:40 AM
You are so lucky. I never had a friend like this but sure wish I did.
Posted by: boogiemum | September 13, 2006 at 11:42 AM
I had a Steve. His name was Aaron, and we lost touch briefly after college for a year. In that time he became a heroine addict and was engaging in risky bi-sexual behaviour. After the hiatus, we reconnected and I saw him several times, but he died a month after our last visit from a heroin OD. I'm sorry this is such a downer comment, but throughout your post I kept thinking something awful was going to happen and was so relieved and happy for you when it ended well. Or not ended - continued to be.
Posted by: Mignon | September 13, 2006 at 12:15 PM
I think we should seek to make every friendship exaclty like the one between you and Steve. It is the most wonderful exchange and it really makes life worth living.
Posted by: Ben | September 13, 2006 at 01:12 PM
Rob is my Steve. Luckily for me, he lives right here in Boston and he makes me laugh and gives me a shoulder to cry on whenever I need it. We met my freshman (his junior) year in college, and now -- 23 years later -- I can't even begin to imagine my life without our friendship. I was in his wedding last year, which was probably the most meaningful thing for me, ever. Thanks for sharing your Steve story and for making me stop and appreciate how lucky I am to have Rob in my life, too.
Posted by: cynical | September 13, 2006 at 05:22 PM
Another coincidence, I am working on a post about my friend, Rich (On my blog I call him Pal). We met looking for off campus housing as transfer students in 1984. We lived and laughed and drank together for 3 years. It was great. We lost touch for a couple of years when I became engaged and he became jealous, but bumped into each other on the street a couple of years later and have resumed our wonderful friendship since then. Right now he is trying to buy a lake house on the same lake my lake house is on and the possibility thrills me.
You are right, every one needs a friend like that.
Posted by: clickmom | September 13, 2006 at 05:40 PM
I envy you. Really envy you. I never had a Steve.
Posted by: Mary | September 13, 2006 at 05:41 PM
That post put such a smile on my face. What a great guy, a great friend. What history you share together.
Thanks for the reminder to do the same for my oldest and dearest friend. I'll honor her soon with a post.
Posted by: mothergoosemouse | September 13, 2006 at 05:42 PM
Oops, forgot to add that my grandparents had a Torino. Seafoam green. Oooooh baby. Still remember those black plastic seats that got so fucking hot and sticky in the summertime.
Posted by: mothergoosemouse | September 13, 2006 at 05:50 PM
That was wonderfully uplifting. I don't have any friends that I have known for most of my life... I just lost touch/drifted away from almost everyone.
I wish I had a Steve.
Posted by: marnie | September 13, 2006 at 06:47 PM
The way you talk about Steve is almost a perfect description of me and my "sister" Micha (http://www.flickr.com/photos/spamboy/tags/micha/). Someone that looked like me, talked like me, and was born just days apart -- we didn't have to pretend to be related for other people to think we were. To this day, we're nearly inseparable as friends and our spouses are now great friends also!
Posted by: Spamboy | September 13, 2006 at 07:44 PM
Well, I am speechless. Just when I was pondering whether I have really done anything significant in my life, I realized that one of the most important things is to be considered your friend. WOW. I had just returned home after a long and grueling day and I was sitting in my very own freshly-made, steaming pile of self-esteem-wrecking poo when I read your latest blog. I cried. No, I sobbed. What have I to worry about when I have you in my life? You are a great spirit who has made my life richer and happier. I am honored to be your friend. And, may I add that you are an excellent writer? What a great subject....teehee.
Love you.
Posted by: Steven | September 13, 2006 at 08:18 PM
Yeah, I had a Steve too - named Ian. I finally got back in touch with him last year after several years apart. But then lately he hasn't been returning e-mails, and I'm sad. You're lucky to have what you have.
Posted by: Heather | September 13, 2006 at 08:29 PM
I have been lucky enough to have a handful of Steves. But they were all women, all my best friends in the quarter of a century I lived in Spain. Some were ex-pats like me, some were Spaniards. We cried and laughed and pulled dumb stunts and, most importantly, were there for each other for the drama and the drivel. We met in our early twenties and we grew up together. They are still my best friends in the whole world (not withstanding Mr. O.) Whenever I get back to Madrid for a visit I know I'll be home again the second I glimpse their faces at end of the runway.
Loved your Steve story.
Posted by: Ortizzle | September 14, 2006 at 10:38 PM
Yay Steve! I don't know where I'd be without a few of my friends (but I'd have lots fewer storiesto tell!)
Posted by: Heather | September 16, 2006 at 08:16 AM
I have a Steve named Jon. He was my maid of honor. I knew my husband was the right man for me when his only response to my announcement that Jon was my maid of honor was "...well, no taffeta or chiffon. Unless, of course, he's clean-shaven."
I also have a Steve named David, who was my best friend forever in high school. I'm 40 now, and we're still best friends, despite only seeing each other twice in 22 years.
Everyone needs a Steve/Jon/David. My life would be immeasurably poorer without Jon and David...the laughter we've shared, the tears we've cried, the stupid stuff we've survived.
Thanks for a great post.
Posted by: Carolie | September 16, 2006 at 12:49 PM