There's an old saying that goes something like, "A friend is someone who knows all about you and loves you anyway." Well, Jacky doesn't know "all" about me, but she knows enough to probably get me in deep doodoo if she felt so inclined.
We first met in the very early '60s when I was teaching first grade in Montmorenci, Indiana. Her daughter was one of my students. She, along with many other parents, came to "Open House" a few weeks after the school year began and we hit it off immediately.
I don't remember exactly which of us first suggested getting together outside of school functions. (Jacky does, I'll bet. She's got a mind like a steel trap!) It really doesn't matter who. Little by little, over the next few years, we grew closer and closer and in the many years since have managed to stay in contact with each other.
At this point in time, except for the miles between us, I feel closer to her than ever. She reads my blog, and sometimes I pass along her comments in my responses. Perhaps one day she'll sign up for Blogger so she can comment directly.
Anyway, a couple of months back or so, I was looking for a card for someone else and came across one that I quickly snatched up while it was still on the shelf. I absolutely had to have it! Then I e-mailed her husband on the "qt" and asked him when her birth date was. I was hoping it hadn't already passed us by. I was so relieved to hear back that her birthday is today. Not only was that a piece of good news but, even tho I knew she was younger than I, I didn't realize she is celebrating her 70th. What a momentous occasion!
Let me tell you about the card I found. The scene is a liquor store. A woman has made her selection and brought it to the counter. The clerk demands to see her identification. In amazement and utter delight, the woman - who's probably in her 30's - raises her fist in the air and says, "Yes!"
Why did I absolutely have to have this card? Well, we'll go back in time to more than 40 years ago when Jacky and I were having a gal's night out at one of the local pubs. Underage people were allowed in there, but they weren't served any liquor. Not that we were worried about that. It had been many years since either of us had been carded.
When the waiter asked me to show proof of age, I was flabbergasted! In my haste to get it out of my purse, I dropped everything on the floor, wallet and all. I was very much like that woman in the liquor store. Jacky was fuming. She wasn't asked, I was!
The inside of the card? I didn't write them down and so I don't know the exact words, but they - paraphrasing here from what I choose to remember - said, "Another year older? You're going to have to prove it!" Can you see why I just had to have that card?
A most happy happy birthday to you, Jacky, dear old friend. I love you.