Opinion
OPINION: The joy of old friends
The reality of getting old is starting to settle in. I love this stage of life, but I also hate losing some of my dear, dear friends. Just last week, a beloved friend passed away, leaving an empty spot in my heart. Norma Peck was my neighbor and friend. We raised our families just about 100 yards from each other. My daughter often called Norma her second mom. I was so grateful that whenBecky felt a little down, she could hop over to the seminary building and Norma was always there to offer to get her a “Large Marge” (a drink), or take her and Tracy, her best friend, for a ride.
About one year ago, I lost my “water buddy,” Woneva Myers. Woneva knew more about water issues than anyone. She could tell you where most of the wells in Lehi were located, who owned what water shares, and how much they were worth. She was also my favorite conspiracy theory consultant. She was a voracious reader and loved books about politics. Many times, she would buy them at the Dollar Store and then share them with me. Marley wasn’t particularly happy about my ever-growing collection of books about the JFK assassination or the water problems surrounding the Colorado River. I miss our conversations and her common- sense explanations about most things political.
Several years ago, Joan Russon left us. She was my confidante in many ways. She was very smart about so many things. She could sew anything. She had patterns she would share with me and then gave me tips on how to make my creations look professional. She also was very knowledgeable about real estate and investments. I could ask her any question and she would know the answer. Being a mortgage official, (and one of the best I’ve been told), she could guide and direct decisions on buying,selling or navigating the real estate markets. She was also a faithful mentor in all things spiritual. Everybody needs a friend who can help navigate a faith journey.
About three years ago, I lost my best buddy Barbara Brown. We had been friends for over 70 years. Barb was such a joy to be around. Together, we laughed, teased, and tormented each other throughout our childhood. We set fire to my dad’s wheat crop about a week before harvest. We harassed Mr. Lundell, Mr. Cranmer, and teased Mr. Wilde. I received my first “Needs Improvement,” score in Mr. Harding’s science class because Barbara skinned the frog we were dissecting, then pinned the skin to a bulletin board and blamed me. The list of our misbehavior could fill a novel.
When she left to go to Dixie and me to Utah State, we wrote each other fairly often. Her letters were on toilet paper, napkins, canned soup labels and anything else laying around. She was a class officer with Jeffrey Holland and was named “Miss Personality” her first year at Dixie. She always made people laugh and I miss her phone calls today. I have her texts on my phone and will never delete her number. I pull her texts up fairly often just to remember her jokes, cartoons, and funny stories.
Life is hard in many ways, especially when we lose people who bring so much joy to our lives. I have made a directive to some of my remaining friends: “You can’t leave!” I just wish it could be that way.
