Diary Friday

I decided to plumb more of the depths of the autobiographical sketch I wrote when I was 14 years old.

Here goes. I describe the beginning of my friendship with Betsy, in 5th grade. We are complete goofballs, and it was like we were best friends from the first second we met.

SHEILA’S LIFE STORY

(written at age 14)

I don’t know when it happened, but Betsy and I just hit it off. I think it was when we were in gym and Miss Rogers, our teacher, announced that Jan Grant was coming to teach us some games, and we both went into hysterics and we found out that we both knew her. Maybe that was it. Whatever. We were best friends.

She liked Bobby B. that year, and I loved Peter A, with a passion.

Every single day after school, she would come over my house, or, more often, I’d go over to hers. Her father is a minister, and they live on campus in an adorable cozy house beside the church. Her mother is great, and so is her dad.

Betsy has her own room with bunkbeds, and it’s full of knick-knacks. We would spend HOURS in there, mostly tape recording ourselves. We listen to those tapes now and laugh until the tears stream down our cheeks and our stomachs ache. They are honestly the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life.

We would sing (very slowly because Betsy would be playing along with her autoharp [Ed: HAHA]). Or we would act out situations – like a reporter interviewing people going on a plane flying over the Bermuda Triangle.

Some of the replies: “Is this a plane?? I’m supposed to be on a bus.” Or I would be a deaf person, making weird noises, trying to tell her that I was deaf, and she’d be going, “What? You want some gum?” Or she’d be an old deaf rock singer with her tamborine [Ed: HAHA], and she would be very very very slowly beating on it, and singing very very very slowly, as if she was on a record with the speed turned down. [Ed: Wow, now that’s a time-traveler reference.] “Boooooogie-oooooooogie-oooooogie-ooogie…”

Recently, when I heard that tape, I don’t think I have ever laughed harder in my life.

We would sneak out of her house and go to Kingston Hill and buy candy. I remember that one time Betsy had bought a Tangy Taffy and as we were running across the big highway [Ed: Again, with the “big highway” reference! It is literally a two-lane road], she dropped it. On the sidewalk across, we turned around and stared in horror at it lying there. So Betsy decided to run across and kick it across with her. When the coast was clear, she tore across and sort of brushed her foot against it. I was literally rolling around on the ground in hysterics at the sight. And she didn’t get it across! All that work for nothing. Betsy was just about to dash out and get it when a car drove by right over it. We gaped at each other. Finally, Betsy scooped it up and ran back over to me.

As we were walking home, we opened up the Tangy Taffy and there was this chomp out of the corner. We laughed all the way home about the car taking a chomp out of our Tangy Taffy.

We spent hours at her house, listening to musicals and acting them out. Mostly “Oliver”. We doted on “Oliver”. We loved it madly. At home, I listened to it over and over and over. [Ed: My mother finally had to gently tell me, “Uh … Sheila … we’re not going to be able to listen to Oliver anymore. Okay?“] I have a picture of both of us decked up in old long gowns, singing and acting out a number from Oklahoma.

We would spend our recesses sitting up on the jungle gym, singing songs from musicals. Maybe it sounds like we were showing off. I guess we were, but we were also just having fun.

Fifth grade was great only because of Betsy. I didn’t love my teacher. But I made a friend that has lasted all the years.