Thank You My Good Friend
I received a comment on my last post from Steve. Steve and David were my best friends and neighbors in elementary school. Shifting allegiances, quarrels, making up, and adventures. Everything pre-adolescent best friends generally do for and to each other. Their mother was a very special woman. While we were still in grade school she went back and finished college, got her teaching certificate, and I believe got her master's as well. A brilliant and warm human being, and an example for taking courageous life leaps without second guessing yourself. A lesson I still carry with me.
Growing up I spent a lot of time at their house, and Dorene became the only real mentor I've had in my life outside of my father. She gave me encouragement, advice, and a sounding board. Many of us have had an adult we valued and respected above all others in our childhood. Dorene was that adult for me. I didn't realize it at the time, but I often used her as a proxy mom. She was extremely perceptive and I'm certain she realized I was hungry for contact that my alcohol and medication dependent mother was unable to provide. That is certainly above and beyond what anyone need do for a neighbor kid. Never was there a hint of what she thought of my besotted mother. I can't imagine anything more generous.
As I grew up much, no, most of my critical thinking was nurtured by this wonderful lady. I don't see things as black and white choices. I question beliefs continually, especially my own. I had other influences which encouraged me to think independently. None so much as Dorene. I had a couple classes from her in high school. The most challenging and engaging classes I had. I had to work harder for grades in her classes than the other kids, and I of course bitched about it. We both knew I loved and respected her all the more for it.
For the sake of privacy, I'll not mention her last name. I grew up calling her Mrs. ******, and I always thought of her that way. Even when I was an adult and finally learned to address her as Dorene. It has a very special meaning for me. I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.
Last night I saw Waiting for Godot with my friend and ETI classmate, David. On the way into the theatre I saw Rachel in front of us and called to her. We all sat together and I again had the pleasure of introducing two good friends. We grow up and move on. Still, we think back on increasingly infrequent occasions. On one of those occasions a year and a half back I thought of Dorene, and wrote her a letter thanking her for being such an integral part of my life.
Last night immediately after seeing the play, I was touched to find out she had died and to hear she had received and valued my letter. She knew me as a somewhat clingy child, who rarely had more than two good friends at any one time. I'm much different from that child -- I can no longer count how many good friends I have or understand why I would want to in the first place. My regard for Dorene though, has not changed.
I'm shedding a lot of tears at the moment. I'm sad my mentor has passed on. I'm grateful I feel the loss. I'm sad it has been fifteen years since I saw her. I'm glad I wrote a letter.
Growing up I spent a lot of time at their house, and Dorene became the only real mentor I've had in my life outside of my father. She gave me encouragement, advice, and a sounding board. Many of us have had an adult we valued and respected above all others in our childhood. Dorene was that adult for me. I didn't realize it at the time, but I often used her as a proxy mom. She was extremely perceptive and I'm certain she realized I was hungry for contact that my alcohol and medication dependent mother was unable to provide. That is certainly above and beyond what anyone need do for a neighbor kid. Never was there a hint of what she thought of my besotted mother. I can't imagine anything more generous.
As I grew up much, no, most of my critical thinking was nurtured by this wonderful lady. I don't see things as black and white choices. I question beliefs continually, especially my own. I had other influences which encouraged me to think independently. None so much as Dorene. I had a couple classes from her in high school. The most challenging and engaging classes I had. I had to work harder for grades in her classes than the other kids, and I of course bitched about it. We both knew I loved and respected her all the more for it.
For the sake of privacy, I'll not mention her last name. I grew up calling her Mrs. ******, and I always thought of her that way. Even when I was an adult and finally learned to address her as Dorene. It has a very special meaning for me. I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.
Last night I saw Waiting for Godot with my friend and ETI classmate, David. On the way into the theatre I saw Rachel in front of us and called to her. We all sat together and I again had the pleasure of introducing two good friends. We grow up and move on. Still, we think back on increasingly infrequent occasions. On one of those occasions a year and a half back I thought of Dorene, and wrote her a letter thanking her for being such an integral part of my life.
Last night immediately after seeing the play, I was touched to find out she had died and to hear she had received and valued my letter. She knew me as a somewhat clingy child, who rarely had more than two good friends at any one time. I'm much different from that child -- I can no longer count how many good friends I have or understand why I would want to in the first place. My regard for Dorene though, has not changed.
I'm shedding a lot of tears at the moment. I'm sad my mentor has passed on. I'm grateful I feel the loss. I'm sad it has been fifteen years since I saw her. I'm glad I wrote a letter.
2 Comments:
What a moving story - that really touches me.
Thank you.
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