(Way Cooler Big Sister sandwiched between a Hurshman and Greener)
Come Dancing
It’s fortunate that I didn’t learn the
art of making friends from Way Cooler Big Sister, but, I’ll get to that in a
minute. When I was nine years old, she was nineteen. This meant she was finally
able to enter the bars legally to see
Rock Star Brother’s band play. Being legal
didn’t prevent her from going before she
turned nineteen. In those days, she just grabbed her best bud, a guitar case,
and strutted her feathered bangs in alongside Rock Star Brother’s swanky shoulder
pads. I envied her more than I can describe. I wanted so badly to go with them.
I’d go to sleep and wish when I woke up I was of age, so I could hang with
them, like a grown-up instead of just being the lonely pipsqueak who stayed up
all hours of the night just to hear all their stories of the exciting nightlife,
pulsing somewhere beyond the thick trees of Cow Bay. They’d come home reeking
of wine coolers, cigarette smoke, and adventure. The first hint of their
returning home, taxi headlights in the drive, the late-night laughter coming up
the side steps snapped me wide awake, all the sand from the Sandman rubbed from
my innocent eyes, sitting with the bedside lamps on, waiting for them to pour
through our shared bedroom door to regale me with tall tales of the evenings
events. I hung on their every word, aching to be older, in the circle,
somewhere in the center, right where they all were, in the thick, instead of
living vicariously.
Way Cooler Big Sister’s lifelong friend
and crazy sidekick, Greener, would keep me up until dawn hooting and hollering.
It’s a good thing that our bedroom was in the basement, Brother Bear’s old room
where his epic stereo and gruff growl once lived, or else they/we’d have had
the whole house awake. Greener’s laugh, more a cackle, it boomed and echoed. If
my Mother heard it, she didn’t say anything, but then again, when she was down
for the count, logs were sawing.
This one night, as told by the Terrible
Two, they were ravenous after copious amounts of Ten Penny beers. Way Cooler Big
Sister ducked into a pizza joint a stone’s throw from the bar, and bought a
full size pizza. She doled out slices of the pie to the band which left two
left, one for her, and one for Greener. Greener, sitting on the bench just
inside the side door, was busy flapping her lips. She had her hand out for her
slice but wasn’t paying attention to Way Cooler Big Sister handing it over. It
fell from Way Cooler Big Sister’s hand and landed cheese side down on the
greasy van floor. Greener, still deep in conversation, didn’t notice that Way
Cooler Big Sister picked it up, wiped off some of the gunk that may or may not
have stuck to the greasy goodness, and put it in her hand. Greener, oblivious,
none-the-wiser, chowed down. It wasn’t until that night in our basement
bedroom, the same one that once housed Brother Bear’s most excellent music
collection, after the pizza was
partially digested, Way Cooler Big Sister confessed to dropping it on the floor
and let her eat it anyway. Greener’s reaction was an ear-splitting, “Ohhhhh my GOD, Kellllly!” Way Cooler Big Sister erupted in gut-busting laughter. That jolted my Mother who pounded her
heel on the floor above and bellared for them to settle down. That only made
them laugh more. I was in acquitted awe.
Most of their stories, or the ones I
remember most vividly, and the ones Way Cooler Big Sister and Greener would
often reminisce about, revolved around food. Another similar story came from a
night they arrived home late from some bar in the wild. After a night of
drinking, dancing, and minor damnation, they were famished. Greener, was
chilling with the radio on in our room, sideways from hooch. Way Cooler Big
Sister asked me to come up to the kitchen with her to help her make food and
carry it downstairs. Obviously, I was agreeable. Anything to be in the fray. I
poured them each tall glasses of chocolate milk while put together two fried
egg sandwiches. Way Cooler Big Sister, half sideways herself, kept laughing at
them in the frying pan, “Look at them,
they look like two deep fried tits and big yellow nipples!” I’m sure my
face turned ten shades of red. I stood guard until she plunked the rubberish
eggs inside fresh white buttered bread, “You
carry down the milk and I’ll carry the plates.” I went on ahead slow to
steady the frothy milk. She followed behind in a bit more of a hurry and lost
her balance a few steps down the two million that led downstairs. In her
topsy-turvy state, the plate in her ‘Breakfast
in America’ pose, stacked with both sandwiches,
teeters. The top one drops to floor, one piece of bread flies and the deep
fried tit hit the striped stair carpet. We had a cat and a dog then, so you can
imagine what that rubber boob looked like when she picked it up and tossed it
back between its bread. She was laughing her fool head off, “I ain’t making another one! Shhh don’t tell
Greener!” Better her than me I thought. Poor Greener. We made it downstairs
in one piece, me with the sloshing milk, Way Cooler Big Sister with something
akin to food. She passed the blasphemous top sandwich to her supposed best
friend who was so hungry I’m not even sure she tasted it, in fact, she may have
swallowed whole. Once she finished it, Way Cooler Big Sister exploded in a fit
of giggles. Greener gave her one of those beady side-eyed ‘whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout Willis’ looks. That made Way Cooler Big
Sister laugh harder. What do you want to make a bet my Mother’s heel met the
floor above when she revealed the truth, that her fried egg sandwich’s
condiment was cat dander? Never a dull moment with those two.
Now, can you see why I’d never take cues
from her when it came to the art of friendship? I kid. Despite the fact that
they tortured each other on a regular basis, they had each other’s backs. Thick
and thin. And boy, for the two of them, there was a lot of thin. In it all, furry food, rip-snorting fights, and
everything in between, the friendship lasted a lifetime. That’s something to
emulate. I may not feed my friends spoiled wares but I put my heart and soul
into caring for them, standing shoulder to shoulder, being a shoulder, shouldering their burdens, and loving the snot
out of them. That is what I culled
from Way Cooler Big Sister and Greener’s union. Ride or die. Even in death. It
rings true.
The day came when it was my turn to carry guitar cases and dance
until the sun came up. My turn to
venture out beyond the suburbs and taste life. And, Way Cooler Big Sister,
while she’d accompany me sometimes, there were many a time she didn’t, and in a
reversal of roles, she’d wait up for me to hear the goings on. I made a point
of making my own snacks though!
‘Come
Dancing’ by The Kinks is one of my all-time favorite songs from back in our
video-obsessed youth. Way Cooler Big Sister and I loved the video, and, in many
ways, the meaning paralleled our life. The video, set in pre-rock music-halls
days, is about how through the passing of time, things and people change, yet,
certain things remain the same. We may have grown up and in lean ways, grew
apart, but there was always love and music and laughter and friendship. Regardless
of the trials, the bond was intact. Until she took her last breath.
***
I sat for a good while this evening
writing this small piece of creative non-fiction for my little project,
enjoying the memories of my dearly departed sister and a friend she’s had her
whole life, who is like my other
crazy sister. I’d been thinking of these little stories but couldn’t get the
first line out for the life of me. Mom said something in passing and it
sparked, so I sat down to write. I was almost finished when I received a
message that Greener requires all of our good thoughts and positive vibes
tonight into the coming days. It brought tears to my eyes, to think of her and
Kelly the way they were when I was young, and know she’s in a delicate way.
Maybe the Universe felt it important work tonight?
If you’ve got a spare prayer, please pay
it forward to the consumer of furry food. I know she’d appreciate it. With all
her heart.
In propinquity,
Nic
