Catholic – Don't Gel Too Soon

Big Birthday Memory #13: Best Friends Forever

NOTE: As I approach my 70th birthday, I’ll reprise a milestone post here each day until the end of May. Today – from November 17, 2007.

There we are – Jane and me on her porch one summer during college. Friends since Brownies, we’ve always had a warm, respectful and sturdy relationship, interrupted by years at a time but never diminished. Recently she sent photos of a family reunion – her four kids and their spouses and all their kids. And some things she had written. Beautiful things. Especially about her parents. I knew them well; I spent so many Saturday nights at their house, even going to church with them in the morning. They never ate breakfast before Communion but Jane’s mom always insisted that I eat something even though I was going with them After all, I wasn’t taking Communion so why not?.

A “nice Jewish girl” in a mill town suburb (here I’m on the right and Jane on the left,)I had no Jewish friends; Jane, Catholic, was my dearest. What might have been a huge cultural gap was just a curiosity; differences in our lives but not in how we felt about one another. We’d always sworn to be at one another’s weddings; I’ll never forget her beautiful one in the cathedral at Notre Dame. Years later, when it was my turn, Jane was living in Dallas and already a mother; she just couldn’t make it.
Then, just days before our wedding, she called. “Do you still have room on that boat of yours?” (We got married on a boat.) “I have to keep our promise- I’m coming!” It was so great and meant so much. Just as she knew it would.
That was 36 years ago; almost twice the age we were when the top photo was taken. But it doesn’t matter. The blessing of shared memories — of remembering each other’s parents and the Girl Scout trip to New York and her first love, who died in Vietnam — and mine, who ran off, perpetually stoned, to Santa Barbara — those memories make her part of so much of who I was and who I’ve become. What a gift to me that the one whose friendship blessed me was so blessed herself – generous and fine — helping me to be what she knew I had to be when I wasn’t sure myself what that was…not at all.

Surprises

Sometimes, like the day we went to Mont-Saint-Michel, you don’t expect anything and are rewarded with beauty, magic and meaning. And sometimes you don’t get what you wanted but it’s really OK.

We meant to visit abbeys and chateaus but our guide was an Abbeys only sort of guy so we ended up at Jumieges Abbey about an hour and a half from Rouen. We found soaring beauty, like this archway. . .

And this Madonna , contemporary yet right where it should have been, in the Abbey Cloister, in the center, at the Abbey de Boscherville down the road, where she oversees a kingdom of her own.

saller — Abbey de Boscherville – Madonna

We learned a great deal about Benedictine Monks, monasteries, the politics of moving from the election of the abbot (chief of the Abbey) to empowering the local Duke to appoint him, (you can imagine where that led.)

And then there was the French Revolution. To us, that means guillotines and The Terrors. In fact, there was a clear political philosophy and plan that informed the cause before it got away from the thinkers.

Some of France’s basic principles of governance were, in fact, established by the revolutionaries, who fanned out into the countryside to create more than 90 “departments” through which to govern. Each was required to be no larger in circumference than the distance a horse could travel in one day. This kept the people close to, and invested in, their government. It also provided the government with ample intelligence on neighborhood issues and plans.

The churches also faced challenges. Each town had to choose: They were permitted only ONE church since there was only ONE city hall. It was unacceptable for the Church to overshadow the state by setting up small parallel governments in or sphere of influence.

And then we went to Honfleur, one of only a few towns in France that suffered no bomb damage during WWII. It’s had damage of a different kind, though — so many tourists — like Provincetown in August. We were ready to be snooty about the entire experience and then we came upon her:

Ste Teresa stone church honfleur — Sainte Thérèsa de Lisieux in the Wood Church of Honfleur

She is Sainte Thérèsa de Lisieux, a 20th Century girl who died of tuberculosis. Her sister wrote a book about her and her good deeds and she was canonized during the papacy of John Paul II. This shrine is in the Wood Church of Ste. Catherine in the middle of Honfleur and the church, and the haunting Thérèsa were worth the trip.

Saint Joan was there too, so I’ve put her photo below. Tomorrow Antwerp.

Saint Joan of Arc in the Wood Church of St. Catherine

BEST FRIENDS FOREVER

There we are** – Jane and me on her porch one summer during college. Friends since Brownies, we’ve always had a warm, respectful and sturdy relationship, interrupted by years at a time but never diminished. Recently she sent photos of a family reunion – her four kids and their spouses and all their kids. And some things she had written. Beautiful things. Especially about her parents. I knew them well; I spent so many Saturday nights at their house, even going to church with them in the morning. They never ate breakfast before Communion but Jane’s mom always insisted that I eat something even though I was going with them After all, I wasn’t taking Communion so why not?.

A "nice Jewish girl" in a milltown suburb (here I"m on the right and Jane on the left, I had no Jewish friends; Jane, Catholic, was my dearest. What might have been a huge cultural gap was just a curiousity; differences in our lives but not in how we felt about one another. We’d always sworn to be at one another’s weddings; I’ll never forget her beautiful one in the cathedral at Notre Dame. Years later, when it was my turn, Jane was living in Dallas and already a mother; she just couldn’t make it.
Then, just days before our wedding, she called. "Do you still have room on that boat of yours?" (We got married on a boat.) "I have to keep our promise- I’m coming!" It was so great and meant so much. Just as she knew it would.
That was 36 years ago; almost twice the age we were when the top photo was taken. But it doesn’t matter. The blessing of shared memories — of remembering each other’s parents and the Girl Scout trip to New York and her first love, who died in Vietnam — and mine, who ran off, perpetually stoned, to Santa Barbara — those memories make her part of so much of who I was and who I’ve become. What a gift to me that the one whose friendship blessed me was so blessed herself – generous and fine — helping me to be what she knew I had to be when I wasn’t sure myself what that was…not at all.

***NOTE: In order to observe the Sabbath, this post was written in late October and set to post on Saturday morning November 17th.