I Am Loyal to My Friends
To me,friends are forever unless you go behind their back and show you are two-faced and can't be trusted because the truth isn't in you.
If I make a friend, I consider them to be forever. That goes for those I meet on the street and my SW friends. And for those who don't wish to make friends with me or anyone else - more power to you.
When I was a little girl, I was shy and overly polite. I got picked on, spit at,kicked and mocked - over my last name, "teacher's pet" status, and the clothes I wore, seven years out of style and ill-fitting because they were my sister's hand-me-downs. I was sixteen before I got anything in style.
I have gone to two class reunions. I won't go again. The kids who wouldn't give me the time of day when we were in class together fell into two catagories: Those who NEVER wanted to talk to me, and those who were willing to let bygones be bygones and came up to me to talk. Steve Boston was one of those. He saw me sitting alone and stepped away from his wife. "Come here," he ordered.
I stepped out of the tent and came over. He wrapped me into a tremendous hug that was warm and friendly. He introduced me to his wife and we talked for a few minutes before they moved on.
At the second reunion, I saw someone who used to be in my first grade class. I smiled and waved. He was sitting with others, so I didn't horn in. But I was close enough on the other side of the table to hear what he was saying. He must have had too much to drink, for he was telling a small and interested group about an accident I had in the first grade. Not only was that SIX DECADES ago, but his listeners all laughed uproariously. I wanted to die.
I told the class organizer I would never go again - and why. He was angrier than I was over it and told me he always considered me a friend because I was nice to him all these years.
I consider people like Steven and Joe (the organizer) loyal friends. They know how to greet an old friend without getting drunk and obnoxious.
If I make a friend, I consider them to be forever. That goes for those I meet on the street and my SW friends. And for those who don't wish to make friends with me or anyone else - more power to you.
When I was a little girl, I was shy and overly polite. I got picked on, spit at,kicked and mocked - over my last name, "teacher's pet" status, and the clothes I wore, seven years out of style and ill-fitting because they were my sister's hand-me-downs. I was sixteen before I got anything in style.
I have gone to two class reunions. I won't go again. The kids who wouldn't give me the time of day when we were in class together fell into two catagories: Those who NEVER wanted to talk to me, and those who were willing to let bygones be bygones and came up to me to talk. Steve Boston was one of those. He saw me sitting alone and stepped away from his wife. "Come here," he ordered.
I stepped out of the tent and came over. He wrapped me into a tremendous hug that was warm and friendly. He introduced me to his wife and we talked for a few minutes before they moved on.
At the second reunion, I saw someone who used to be in my first grade class. I smiled and waved. He was sitting with others, so I didn't horn in. But I was close enough on the other side of the table to hear what he was saying. He must have had too much to drink, for he was telling a small and interested group about an accident I had in the first grade. Not only was that SIX DECADES ago, but his listeners all laughed uproariously. I wanted to die.
I told the class organizer I would never go again - and why. He was angrier than I was over it and told me he always considered me a friend because I was nice to him all these years.
I consider people like Steven and Joe (the organizer) loyal friends. They know how to greet an old friend without getting drunk and obnoxious.
61-69, F
