Monday, October 1, 2012

Ane and Drew

When I think about what I’m going to share, it blows my feeble mind. Thirty nine years ago, I met Ane and Drew at a small State Univeristy in Texas. Wwwhhhhaaaaatttttt? 39? Yikes. Can’t be. It was my third college. Long story. But even though I’d gone to two other schools—quit and worked full-time for a year in Ft. Worth—I wasn’t too much older than these two cutie-pies.

Ane was my roommate. We didn’t know each other before that moment we arrived at our dorm. I don’t remember if we’d even talked. Neither of us knew anyone, actually, when we met that “move-in” day in September. She had grown up in Austin. I’d been in the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex since 6th grade. She was beautiful. Blonde. Pretty smile. Free-spirited, honest and brave. (She brought both a horse and boat to school. Not at the exact same time. But she could back a trailer like no guy I knew. Until I met my husband. I should make them have a contest.) I remember knowing our thrown-together relationship was going to work. No doubt! And it did. We were roomies for two years. Then Ane made the difficult decision to transfer to Texas A&M. She wanted to pursue a degree she couldn’t get at our college. I was crushed.

Drew lived on another floor of the dorm when we all moved in—but we met her early on. She, too, was beautiful. Grew up in a small town near Austin. She was tiny (still is). But full of sass and spirit. FUNNY. (She had a car she called "The Flying Turtle." Because it wasn't fancy and "sporty" and, well, fast. We sang our share of Tanya Tucker songs riding around the country in The Flying Turtle during our time together!) I pledged a Social (campus) Club with Drew. Ane pledged the next semester (after giving us a hard time for putting up with all the cRaZiNeSs we endured for seven weeks as pledge sisters).

For my three years at my "final" college, two while Ane was still with us, we laughed. We cried. We partied. We complained. We cried some more. We went to class faithfully. Mostly. (At a small college—in classrooms with not too many students—it’s quite noticeable to the professors when one is not there. Attendance is pretty much required.) We believed. We cared. We did stupid things. We did smart things. We changed. We stayed the same. We experienced. We dreamed.

Here is a “club” picture of us I copied out of our 1975 annual (TLC cropped and edited this for me. Thank you, Little Mama. Thank you very much.) Yes. We might have been at a bar. I’m in the middle. Geez—why didn’t someone tell me I needed bangs? Ane is in front of me—black hat with a flower—to my right. Your left—as you look at the picture. Drew is behind me. Looking right at the camera. My left. Your right. That’s our cherished friend, Liz, holding a can of Diet Coke (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.). My Big Sis, Meg—who I still adore—is to my left. Your right. No hat.


We had a LARGE time in college. Very large. Special/Dear/Treasured Memories.

Recently, Ane and Drew came to stay with me at my country casa. They spent an afternoon and Saturday night. My Sweet Hubby (MSH) cooked us a delicious dinner. Breakfast, the next morn. He's a keeper, that Man O' Mine. There wasn’t a moment of silence between the three of us gals. For hours and hours. We hadn’t seen each other for many years. Yet, as happens to y’all, too, with close friends, it was like we’d been together the week before. We headed over to our Barn apartment at midnight. MIDNIGHT. I went back to our house at 3:00. That would be A.M. Crawled into my bed at 3:30.  (We’re close to hitting our 60s Decade! I say: WE ROCKED. BTW: We each had one small glass of wine. That’s it. VERY different from our college years. We apparently got wise.) We laughed. We complained. We shared. One or two of us might have cried. We laughed some more.  

We promised it wouldn’t be years before our next visit. We always say that, though. Hopefully, this time, we’ll stick to it. We don’t live that far from each other. It’s so senseless to lose touch with friends you cherish. Especially now. Having instant access to communication! 39 years ago? We had telephones. (Calls that were charged as “long distance.” I know. This is sooo foreign and mysterious to our young folks of today.) We had mail. “Snail” mail—as it’s called. Oh, and I guess we had Western Union. I never once sent a “telegram” to anyone. Nor did I ever receive one. Does Western Union still exist? Hmmm.

Thank you, Dolls. For the joy you gave—and continue to give—to me…I love you, both!

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