I have had the privilege and good fortune of maintaining one of the most important relationships of my life.
Molly lived across the street and three doors down. Our mothers had become fast friends, taking turns visiting each other over coffee and cocktails. For the rest of her life, Molly’s mom would delight in describing our introduction as toddlers. Just nine months older, I took her hand, and said “It’s okay Molly, you come to my house today.”
We became inseparable. We also had fights, quite a few of them in fact. The earliest source of conflict I can remember involved virgin play-doh.
As soon as we pried open each can of every brand new color, I’d set about smashing them altogether- yellow on top of red on top of green on top of yellow again. This drove her nuts. But I kept doing it, not on purpose, but really, one cannot possibly create a proper Play-Doh sandwich if it all has to stay the same color.
As 20th century children, part-feral but on a weekly allowance, we could easily navigate the two mile trek to Kmart and replenish our supplies. Needless to say, we burned through a lot of play-doh. And I’m convinced it’s why I’d never learn to save up more than a few bucks for the rest of my life.
“Let’s play barbies.”
“Nah… I don’t feel like it.”
Now shit was getting real. This was when one of us would do what had to be done. Issue an ultimatum. So with a straight face and the most intimidating tone of voice a little girl could muster,
“I’ll move.”
As if a 7-year-old had the power to pack up her family and relocate to another state just to punish her friend.
“Noooo! Okay fine! Barbies, okay!”
When did either of us realize that our go-to tactic was only an empty threat? Who knows? But it worked, because it triggered our worst fear, losing a best friend.
I spent more time at Molly’s house than my own. Thanks to her suitcase record player, we no longer resorted to emotional blackmail to keep the peace. Instead we sang and we danced mercilessly upon their oversized coffee table to the soundtrack from Grease, Saturday Night Fever, Captain & Tennille, KC & The Sunshine Band, Disco Duck with a Fifth of Beethoven. That was my favorite, and I’m not afraid to say it.
The lyrics in the stories of the mellow hits too became forever etched in our brains. Harry Chapin, Gerry Rafferty, Wings, and I have no idea who made that rocked-out version of the Lord’s Prayer.
Our shared love of good and bad music didn’t prevent us from fighting. But when we were ready to patch things up, all we had to do was spin the record with the greatest reconciliation tune of all time, by Dave Mason, and take turns singing to one another…
So let’s leave it ‘lone
Cause we can’t see eye to eye
There ain’t no good guy
There ain’t no bad guy
There’s only you and me
And we just disagree.
Just two little girls doing our best to get along. Fifty years have gone since I held her hand to cross our street, Molly is still my best friend, now and forever on.
