“There are friends, and there is family, and then there are friends that become family.” (unknown)
I ran across this quote the other day, and my childhood friend, Claudette, came to mind. Without coming right out to reveal our ages—women just don’t like to do that—I will tell you that we have been friends for more than sixty years.
Our friendship actually began through our parents at church. Walter and Alberta, Claude and Becky were as thick as gravy on mashed potatoes. With seven daughters between the two couples, our families’ friendship flourished as we spent time together at church and in each other’s homes for many years.
As a young girl, I looked up to Claudette who was almost one year older than me. I cracked up laughing at her witty pranks. I always asked her advice on things because I just knew she would have all the answers. We ended up as college roommates, and later we stood at the altar in each other’s weddings.
There is one childhood memory that I continue to remember to this very day, and it’s all about bubbles!
When I would go over to Claudette’s house after church on Sundays, I would help wash and dry the dishes with her if I happened to be at her house when it was her turn. Of course, we always hoped it would be her sisters’ turns, Ginny’s or Karen’s, so that we could go play. But when it fell upon us to clear the table, stack the dishes, fill the sink with bubbly water, well, we took on this chore from the 1960’s without too much complaint. No dishwashers at this time.
In fact, when dishwashers later came out, both our mothers said, “We don’t need dishwashers. We have our daughters!”
Claudette always washed and I always dried. I never questioned this, it’s just the way it was. Claudette would squeeze the liquid soap bottle under the running tap water like I squeezed the ketchup bottle—way too much. The result? Bubbles galore! Those bubbles would be all over the place, even on her, sometimes on me. I stood next to her to remove each dish from the rinse water to place in the drainboard to be ready for drying and putting away. But in truth, only the first couple of dishes really got “rinsed” because the abundant bubbles Claudette created immediately invaded the rinse water.
Whether the dishes truly got the rinse they needed, it didn’t matter. This was a time that Claudette and I talked about everything under the sun: crushes on boys, school, our parents, our sisters, our teachers, and who would win the World Series.
Ahh, such fun memories from long ago, bubbles and all. I wish young girls could wash and dry dishes together today!