the potential to be endless

Long ago I did a couple human interest articles; I was able to interview extraordinary people with wonderful stories. This is one of my favorites:

Friendship is a gift everyone is able to give and receive. True friends are loved for their qualities. Their minor faults are overlooked. I think it began when I asked Mrs. Louise who her best friend was. This was her story:

“I met my best friend when I answered a local add. Her name was Irene Herrera. She was in need of a roommate and I was in need of a home. I remember the first time I met her. I walked up her porch and noticed a small sign posted over the doorbell, and index card that read in simple block letters BELL. For the truly moronic there was an arrow.

She opened the door and she had a big smile on her face as she welcomed me in. She had a wide face and long red hair piled up on her head like she’d done it in a hurry. A pencil and a pen were sticking out of it. She had an old deep green kimono patterned with dragons, a big white t-shirt, black leggings and flip flops. Her toes were painted bright pink. She smelled like vanilla and turpentine. I was beginning to wonder what kind of world I landed in. I wondered how someone could dress like that but it was obvious Irene wasn’t anyone. And I realized that about her that night. She was one of my true friends, my roommate, and also the closest thing to family that I had.

We lived in a small town where it didn’t take much to get a reputation, and she had one. She was the girl who was made fun of by everyone because she was overweight, because she always had a Twinkie or two in her hand. Because her clothes were bright and never matched and because she rode a pink bike everywhere. Even at night when she attached an incredible bright light to the handles, which occasionally blinded on coming traffic.

She was into yard sales. She had furnished her whole house with 2nd hand furniture. Everything was old with a kind of tacky charm and in need of some kind of repair. A rocking chair missing a few back slots, a chair with 3 legs, no knobs in the drawers. But as you looked closely, you could see notes written in nice block letters. “WINDOW STICKS ON LEFT SIDE” it said next to the back door. Taped to the TV set right by the channel knob was my personal favorite “GIGGLE TO GET 11”. The notes were everywhere and nothing in the house was completely functional. She was constantly beginning projects, but nothing ever seemed to get completely fixed, just tinkered with and labeled with a note.

I was always out on dates, having fun and trying to be popular as I could. But Irene, Irene always stayed home watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger movies. Despite our many differences we were the best of friends. The minute we saw each other we were laughing and joking around. I will never forget the time I came home from a bad date. I was in tears sobbing and crying. I made it to the couch, and she didn’t even ask what’s wrong. She went into the kitchen, grabbed the ice cream and 2 spoons, while she yelled from the kitchen “men are wired to screw you over”. She always said the right things. We sat in silence, watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Roger movies.

People always had difficulty understanding her. But she understood me in her own way and I understood her. She taught me all I know. Like that everything can’t be operational all of the time. Sometimes we have to give something the little nudge it needs. (Like GIGGLE TO GET 11). Friendship is about understanding we are all worth something. For Irene, there were no lost causes. Everything and everyone had its purpose. The rest of the world, too often, might have missed that.”

It’s been many years since then. Irene continues to live in the same house, and Mrs. Louise who related the story lives next door. Every Friday night they will be found in Irene’s living room in front of the GIGGLE TO GET 11 TV watching old Fred Astaire movies. Because friendships like movies have potential to be endless…