Birthday Greeting
Tuesday, June 14 is the birthday of one of my dearest friends, Leigh.
When I first met here back in college, she struck me as someone weird. She wore mismatched socks and claimed she was a Nebraskan frog. She and her close male friend Josh played chess which degenerated into a wrestling match. In 1986 when I was a sophomore and she a freshman, we played the leads in a one-act play—I played the not-so-handsome prince while she played the not-so-ideal princess. Because of People Power we only had one performance of that play; the next day I joined the others in EDSA.
After college she went into advertising first while I was enjoying myself working in CCP. Almost three years later I joined her in selling soaps, shampoos, hamburgers and instant noodles to the Filipino public. At one time she was my creative director. Clearing my work with her, I found it easy to forget she was a Nebraskan frog with mismatched socks.
One of my best and most relaxing vacations was spent with her in Baguio. We brought our own CDs, books and cameras and left our watches behind. We took pictures of one another. We ate when we felt like it, drank when we wanted to, and went where we wanted to go. It was one of my most stress-free vacations ever.
She reads tarot cards and runes, drives a huge truck named Rogue, is addicted to all things Apple, and writes a hell of a lot better than me. She is my confidant, my counselor and shrink, my Miriam-Webster dictionary and my Strunk and White. We may not see each other regularly but I know we’re connected always.
I’ve seen her though good and bad times. I’ve seen her love all the wrong men. Now there’s just one man in her life and I’m quite sure that he’s the right one for her—her son Luc.
Happy birthday, my one and only Nebraskan Frog.
* (I actually started writing this Tuesday afternoon, but work got in the way; when I finished writing this, it was already Wednesday morning.)
When I first met here back in college, she struck me as someone weird. She wore mismatched socks and claimed she was a Nebraskan frog. She and her close male friend Josh played chess which degenerated into a wrestling match. In 1986 when I was a sophomore and she a freshman, we played the leads in a one-act play—I played the not-so-handsome prince while she played the not-so-ideal princess. Because of People Power we only had one performance of that play; the next day I joined the others in EDSA.
After college she went into advertising first while I was enjoying myself working in CCP. Almost three years later I joined her in selling soaps, shampoos, hamburgers and instant noodles to the Filipino public. At one time she was my creative director. Clearing my work with her, I found it easy to forget she was a Nebraskan frog with mismatched socks.
One of my best and most relaxing vacations was spent with her in Baguio. We brought our own CDs, books and cameras and left our watches behind. We took pictures of one another. We ate when we felt like it, drank when we wanted to, and went where we wanted to go. It was one of my most stress-free vacations ever.
She reads tarot cards and runes, drives a huge truck named Rogue, is addicted to all things Apple, and writes a hell of a lot better than me. She is my confidant, my counselor and shrink, my Miriam-Webster dictionary and my Strunk and White. We may not see each other regularly but I know we’re connected always.
I’ve seen her though good and bad times. I’ve seen her love all the wrong men. Now there’s just one man in her life and I’m quite sure that he’s the right one for her—her son Luc.
Happy birthday, my one and only Nebraskan Frog.
* (I actually started writing this Tuesday afternoon, but work got in the way; when I finished writing this, it was already Wednesday morning.)
posted by joelmcvie at 12:07 AM
1 Comments:
Awww. Sniff. Sniff.
My son and your godson Lucien has a strange mom. ;-)
Big hugs.
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