The peanut butter bars baked by the cafeteria workers in the San Diego Unified School District were unmatched for deliciousness. They offered a delightful chewiness topped with an ever-so-light frosting spread thinly over the squares that made them just sweet enough. And, they sold in the mid-1980s for the amazing price of 25 cents.
For reasons still unknown to me, I never tried one until I reached high school, whereas my best buddies had long since discovered them at Roosevelt Junior High School. The student cafeteria at San Diego High routinely sold out and so we made good with a couple of our English teachers and asked them to buy us the addictive desserts from the Teacher's Lounge.
Early in 7th grade, about mid-way through the lunch period, a cheerful red head came around asking to borrow a quarter to top off her lunch with one of these peanut butter bars. I recognized her from Social Studies class, but she was not one of the kids from my elementary school. I'm not even sure if I knew at the time that her name was Shawn.
Many years later, in a bar in Washington, D.C., one of Shawn's co-workers asked the two of us how it was that we had been best friends since we were 12. I was visiting from our hometown where I still lived and looked at Shawn, curious how she'd respond. Well, she whipped out the quarter story and noted that I asked for repayment every day for weeks. That, more or less, is how we came to talk on a regular basis.
Long before the term bff came along, Shawn and I exchanged letters while college students at different universities using salutations like, "Love you, BBBF," the abbreviation for our own term, Buddy Buddy Best Friend. Now we use it in text messages because, yes, Shawn is still my bestie 33 years since our first meeting.
I am thinking especially of Shawn this weekend because she turned 45 yesterday, two months since I did the same. In so many ways I still feel like we are the geeky kids who played tennis and studied our butts off and saved a dollar a day to fund a trip to Europe when we were juniors in college. Yet decades have passed and our lives have taken turns from thrilling to heartbreaking.
I have come to see that for the big life I seek, Shawn has given me so many of the tools to live it. While she worked in D.C., it was my home that she always returned to in San Diego and I learned how much I thrive on steadiness, on providing for a family.
When we traveled through Europe for six weeks, with nothing but our backpacks and a train pass, I understood for the first time what it meant to be valued and honored for my innate skills. Shawn noticed my uncanny sense of direction and cheerfully let me lead the way through Athens, Santorini, Rome, Florence, Paris, Zurich, Mannheim, Stuttgart, Bruges, and London.
Not long after I moved to Spokane, Shawn moved to Hong Kong, and made it possible for me to visit her twice. Navigating a culture that is so very different from my own expanded my understanding of all the different kinds of students I work with in a way not possible without getting outside, very far outside, the United States.
Though still 1,500 miles apart (Shawn is back in San Diego), we are propping each other up through single motherhood and aging and chasing the dreams we believe are utterly possible. I dare say, Shawn might also be seeking a quiet, but big life.
Her son, Ian, started Kindergarten this year. I wonder if his school serves peanut butter bars!?
For reasons still unknown to me, I never tried one until I reached high school, whereas my best buddies had long since discovered them at Roosevelt Junior High School. The student cafeteria at San Diego High routinely sold out and so we made good with a couple of our English teachers and asked them to buy us the addictive desserts from the Teacher's Lounge.
Early in 7th grade, about mid-way through the lunch period, a cheerful red head came around asking to borrow a quarter to top off her lunch with one of these peanut butter bars. I recognized her from Social Studies class, but she was not one of the kids from my elementary school. I'm not even sure if I knew at the time that her name was Shawn.
Many years later, in a bar in Washington, D.C., one of Shawn's co-workers asked the two of us how it was that we had been best friends since we were 12. I was visiting from our hometown where I still lived and looked at Shawn, curious how she'd respond. Well, she whipped out the quarter story and noted that I asked for repayment every day for weeks. That, more or less, is how we came to talk on a regular basis.
Long before the term bff came along, Shawn and I exchanged letters while college students at different universities using salutations like, "Love you, BBBF," the abbreviation for our own term, Buddy Buddy Best Friend. Now we use it in text messages because, yes, Shawn is still my bestie 33 years since our first meeting.
I am thinking especially of Shawn this weekend because she turned 45 yesterday, two months since I did the same. In so many ways I still feel like we are the geeky kids who played tennis and studied our butts off and saved a dollar a day to fund a trip to Europe when we were juniors in college. Yet decades have passed and our lives have taken turns from thrilling to heartbreaking.
I have come to see that for the big life I seek, Shawn has given me so many of the tools to live it. While she worked in D.C., it was my home that she always returned to in San Diego and I learned how much I thrive on steadiness, on providing for a family.
When we traveled through Europe for six weeks, with nothing but our backpacks and a train pass, I understood for the first time what it meant to be valued and honored for my innate skills. Shawn noticed my uncanny sense of direction and cheerfully let me lead the way through Athens, Santorini, Rome, Florence, Paris, Zurich, Mannheim, Stuttgart, Bruges, and London.
Not long after I moved to Spokane, Shawn moved to Hong Kong, and made it possible for me to visit her twice. Navigating a culture that is so very different from my own expanded my understanding of all the different kinds of students I work with in a way not possible without getting outside, very far outside, the United States.
Though still 1,500 miles apart (Shawn is back in San Diego), we are propping each other up through single motherhood and aging and chasing the dreams we believe are utterly possible. I dare say, Shawn might also be seeking a quiet, but big life.
Her son, Ian, started Kindergarten this year. I wonder if his school serves peanut butter bars!?
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