Even When Its

Jane and I were young together.

No, not young, as in school friends, but young wives. Both of us were very young Mothers, bound together by Dr. Spock, and husbands sharing the same time consuming law enforcement careers.

Jane had almost twice as many children as I. Five to my three, and both of us were totally overwhelmed.

Our backgrounds were similar, Irish Catholic daughters from Manhattan,. Products of families that shopped for cakes in bakeries, and didn’t whip out a Kitchenaid appliance to produce a perfect chocolate work of art., We believed in opening cans, and had never heard of a casserole until a neighbor from the Midwest served one,

We drank coffee endlessly, and yes, on occasion when things got totally out of hand, whipped out a cigarette. I remember one snowy night in Jane’s rambling Garden City Tudor home, she produced a cigar, and said, “We need this.”

Of course, we didn’t. It didn’t help a bit. But it made us laugh, and that was the magic of our friendship. We made each other laugh far more often than sharing tears of frustration.

It was a difficult time. GOOD HOUSEKEEPING set standards, and neither Jane nor I could meet them. It was hard to find the joy in polishing silver when all the youngsters had chicken pox, or look glamorous at 8 a.m. when you had been up all night and the baby had croup.

I think it was our ability to laugh that kept us from crossing the abyss into insanity. Dramatic, I admit, but being 26 and finding yourself with several beautiful toddlers, who totally depended on your wisdom, and energy, and realizing you had very little of both, was totally scary.

Perhaps I am remembering Jane today because it is snowing again and winter is here, and that’s when we often found ourselves desperately in need of each other’s company.

One or the other would gather the preschool brood, load them into the second hand station wagon and drive to the other’s house. To our shame we would put on the black and white TV, and quietly disappear into the kitchen where a coffee pot was perking.

I remembered today the constant topic that kept us laughing was Jane’s aging (70) Mother In Law. Jane’s husband, Tom, was an only child. Need I say more?

Perhaps that explains our joint hilarity at the fact the poor woman still wore mascara. Now well beyond the two digits, 70, I wonder how I could have found it so funny?

Then I remember making a solemn promise to my own Mother, Never, never would I tell a soul she bought a mascara in the local Woolworths. Not opium or bootleg gin, but a mascara. Ye gads, who says women haven’t come forward?

Ah yes it was a long long time ago. Jane and Tom departed this world far too soon, but that wasn’t their choice. The six youngsters, who huddled in front of TVs so many snowy afternoons, are all on the verge of receiving their first SSI check.

One morning my beloved left too, and I don’t laugh nearly as much anymore.

But I do know I don’t think wearing mascara at any age is funny at all. I guess you could say I’ve finally grown up or perhaps old. I do wish Jane was still here though, and we could find something else to laugh about. I still miss her even when it’s not snowing.