Our friend Bill had his birthday a couple of weeks ago. If I repeat myself with this post I apologize. I have a tendency to do this with stories, facts, you name it. It has endeared me to a select few, while the majority just roll their eyes. In the end I am my father's daughter.
Bill is three months older than Dad. Growing up in Maplewood, NJ they knew each other during a stint in the Cub Scouts. Eventually my grandparents moved themselves and Dad to Livingston and that was that. End of story? No. Flash forward thirty years to me in nursery school. The story goes something like this. There was a little boy in nursery school with me and he was wearing suspenders. They were the kind that had the obnoxious metal clasp, like a miniature trap you would use if you trapped animals for a living and they clipped to your pants. Well this little boy's suspender had become unhinged. I offered to help him with his suspender faux pas and we became instant friends. When I came home and Mom told Dad about what happened he asked what the last name of the boy was. It was Chymiy. Dad instantly recognized the name as someone he knew from Cub Scouts. Small world right? It wasn't long after that our mother's became best friends. Like 30 plus year best friends. Mom and Judy would spend every other Saturday together playing cards or Yahtzee, sitting around drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. When it came time for Bill to retire (he held out a little longer than Dad) Mom and Dad received word he and Judy were moving to Maine. Fed up with traffic and too many people in NJ, they, like so many others fled the state. For Mom it was a blessing to have her best friend 15 minutes away. Judy and Bill spent Holidays with us, they would come over and play cards, they all explored parts of the state of Maine. It was a grand time. Then Judy got sick. It wasn't but a few months and she passed away. Just over two weeks later Dad had his stroke. Where we were comforting Bill on the loss of his wife, he was comforting us by visiting Dad in the hospital. Bill was instrumental that first year keeping us company, taking Dad to therapy appointments, a million and one other little thing. Two men who had known each other briefly as children, now tied together by tragedy and circumstances.
While scanning old photos I came upon two, taken by my grandfather, of Dad with a group of kids. As soon as I saw them I knew. Bill was there. It was of both boys when they were in cub scouts together and I smiled. I don't believe anything happens for a reason. Except this. This connection with this man whom I have tremendous respect for was no accident. Two guys who met when they were kids, whose kids then met each other, whose moms became best friends and who are still in each others lives as they enter their seventh decade of living. He is and will be a constant in our lives. And they knew each other when...
 |
| Dad is middle bottom row, Bill second on the right top row |
 |
Dad and Bill on the left
|
