Every kid looks forward to their first day of real school (first grade) with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. On a warm August day in 1984, a day perfect for riding bikes or jumping on the trampoline, I began my academic journey at Western Oaks Elementary. My teacher, Mrs. McIntire, was the violently encouraging type who, had she taught ten years later, would have been fired and lost her license because of her convulsive approach to teaching phonics.
I had one real friend going into that first day, her name was Rose Winkler. I honestly can’t remember why I already knew her. In fact, all I remember about her was that she was very smart, Catholic, she had a mean sister and she was a great Barbie playmate. I was elated that we had been placed in the same class and couldn’t wait to sit right next her all day for a whole school year! My mom took me to school early that first day and I took a seat at the front of the class, secretly reserving the seat to my left for Rose. Fortunately, Rose was late that day and a platinum haired lady wearing tight Guess jeans, led her prissy looking daughter, with a mile of light brown hair, right to Rose’s seat! I was immediately obligated to dislike the princess to my left and her annoyingly adorable navy and white sailor dress. Her name was as sickeningly pretty as she was… Christina.
Honestly, it might have hours, days or even weeks before I got over that princess’s audacity but at some point, I clearly did. The turning point came at Kennard’s (a long since closed grocery store in Bethany). I was there with my Mom and Gran. While they took eight years to shop, I was doing what any kid would do when faced with long, empty narrow aisles—I was running like Flojo, up and down over and over again. Suddenly, I came face to face with an older woman and my arch nemesis, Christina. I assume I was over the desk stealing incident because we immediately began flying up and down those narrow aisles together. I remember thinking, “I’m like reeeeeeeeeeeeaallllllllllly fast!” It’s possible I even told Christina that. We had such a great time and weren’t even close to expelling all our youthful energy, so Christina asked if I could go home with her. I went. I don’t remember much about what we did that afternoon except that I met a very large brown Chow whose name I can’t recall.
Seeing as how we already sat next to each other and were both in Reading Group B (B, meaning, “Bad readers”), it didn’t take long for us to become best friends. We lost our front teeth together, we played house in the intertwined tree roots of the playground, I teased her about her budding romances with the various first grade hotties, and we had a billion sleep-overs and went trick or treating on Halloween. We made pretend radio show tapes on my Dad’s karaoke machine (she still has a passion for radio) we crank called boys, we went on Church youth trips together and always got in trouble. One time we traded places so we could both go on a choir trip, an act that even got us suspended together. Christina and I grew up together and because of those laughs and all the others that came later, she became closer than a sister to me.
Fast forward eighteen years or so, Christina drove all the way from Austin in one night, to be a bridesmaid at my wedding. I remember the day I told her I wanted her to be my bridesmaid… we were about six and about to slide down the swirl slide. On my wedding day, her bizarre sense of humor drove away my anxiety as it always has and watching her rock that wedding march was a highlight in our friendship. Twenty-something years after wanting to smack her for the first (but not the last) time, she is married too and is still my best friend as well as a never boring Godmother to my son.
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Ah Christina, maybe now… you’ll pick up your damned phone once in while!!
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