Do you remember the Randy Newman song from Toy Story, You’ve Got A Friend In Me?

Here are a few of the lyrics:

You’ve got a friend in me

You’ve got a friend in me
When the road looks rough ahead
And you’re miles and miles from your nice warm bed
You just remember what your old pal said
Boy you’ve got a friend in me
Yeah you’ve got a friend in me

I am my own personal juke box.  Maybe you hear voices in your head, okay, I guess I hear voices too, but I always hear music.

I want to tell you about a great night I had related to that song.  As I have mentioned before, I live in the community I was born.  My family home was less than 5 miles from where I have been living for the past 42 years.  Was is the operative word, the house is no longer standing; the progress one lives with when a large International Airport is in your backyard.

I am digressing, as always.  I was lucky to be married to a man that was an electrical engineer, so he could do more than change a light bulb. His father taught him how to paint a room and hammer a nail straight.  My father was also very handy.  Our house needed the normal repairs and upgrades that young people want from their first home.  The hanging swordfish on the wall had to go.  The smoke filled drapes had to go too.  Every room would eventually need to be painted. Let’s not forget how popular wallpaper was in those days too! He hated hanging wallpaper!

It was normal then as it is today, that paint goes on sale during holidays.  The difference between now and then, you went to your local paint and hardware store, Gerald’s, rather than Home Depot or Lowes.

It was over one of the summer holiday’s probably around the 4th of July, that I was at our local park with my soon to be 2 year old son, when I met Margo and her nearly 3 1/2 year old daughter.

Those details are just a little fuzzy.  What Margo reminded me about when we got together a few nights ago, was how Butch was home painting and I was off playing at the park.  Dave didn’t like the sand, he would stand at the edge of the swing area, he didn’t like the uneven nature of the sand box, I guess. He’d just stare and wait to be put on the swings, which I did happily.  I don’t remember if Stephanie, being a little older, was fearless or not.

What I remember most about that visit was that we were two young moms with two young kids meeting at the park and we lived near each other.   We talked about a new parent child class that was being offered at an elementary school that was used for special programs.  It had ceased operating as a functioning elementary school many years prior; as the airport swallowed up more homes in Westchester.

We decided to enroll in Mrs. Bryant’s class with our kids along with many of our neighbors.  This was my first introduction into being part of a kid friendly community of moms.  There were probably 20+ moms and their kids each week.

The structure was perfect for all of us.  The moms stayed inside for a designated time, I think an hour.  The kids played together outside with supervision from the “older” experienced women that we trusted to be with our precious, can’t let them out of our sight, children.

During our inside time we tackled questions that we all had about raising our kids. For the most part, we were all there with our first child.  What happened during that school year was the beginning of my first bonding experience with the women in Westchester.

We were all “stay at home” moms, with a few exceptions. I don’t really think we appreciated just how lucky we were, because we were too wrapped up in trying to figure out parenthood.

Most of us continued to take these weekly parent child classes until our kids entered kindergarten and many of us had another child along the way as well, as did I.

As with all relationships we all got busy, our kids divided in between 7 public elementary schools and 4 private parochial schools.  The Y had programs for kids, we got involved in PTA’s, Scouts, Little League and before you knew it, our toddlers were taking SAT tests for college.

The great thing that happened though from those early Mrs. Bryant classroom experiences was we developed strong friendships. I am still friends with some of those women 39 years later.

Margo stepped away from being a stay at home mom to go back to school to become a nurse.  It wasn’t easy, but she succeeded and was an OBGYN nurse as I continued down the PTA road and then on to working at the Y.

Time and life events happen and we lost contact.  I think we had seen each other only once or twice after the early 90’s when our kids were off to college, until this past week.

Thanks to Facebook, I am friends with Stephanie, Margo’s daughter. Then low and behold, Margo crossed over into the dark side and joined Facebook. This is the reason so many of us appreciate the social media craze of reaching across the pages in our lives by sharing.

There is another song that I’m hearing now…Time Passages, by Al Stewart.  He sings about how time can sometimes get away from us.

We had so much to catch up on.  A lot of things can happen in a 25 year absence.  But what became crystal clear, was how easy it was to recall those early days. From Jazzercise classes to camping we had a great time growing up together.

Here is our pledge Margo…we aren’t going to let this much time get in between us again.