This is the End

Every once in a while, certain people come into our lives and make a significant impact on us. One particular person I have been lucky to call a friend for over twenty-five years did just that for me in the sixth grade. As she turned forty this week, I reflected on our friendship, and had many laughs as I did so.

Right before starting sixth grade, I got word that there would be a new girl beginning the school year with us. She had two older brothers who were already in the junior high and high school, and her mother worked there as a math teacher, so it made logical sense for her to transfer. We didn’t have many new comers that year, and we had all been in the same class since kindergarten, so this newbie was the hot topic. She would be transferring from the local catholic school (with another girl who we adore still), and from what our class troublemaker told us, she was wild…whatever “wild” means at twelve-years old. I believe there was a story about a kiss with a boy on a trampoline that may or may not have happened, but I digress. Whispers and rumors swirled before her arrival, and being the super anxious empath that I am, I wanted to make sure she had a fair chance to make friends. I couldn’t stand the thought of this new girl not having anyone. I was determined to welcome this wild child in and let her know she had a friend in me.

With the first day of school came Laura. She was a petite, blonde who was surprisingly genuine and very sweet. A few of us welcomed her with open arms and found that she was quite funny, too. Her contagious laugh and self-deprecating spirit were the first hints. After a couple of weeks, I asked her to spend a Friday night with me, and eventually she reciprocated the gesture.

Now, before I go any further, I must describe my upbringing. I had one older brother who I still refer to as “the golden child.” My parents rarely drank alcohol in front of us, almost never said a curse word, and made sure we were at the Presbyterian Church service every Sunday and Wednesday nights. I had to memorize all the catechisms at a young age, was taught to never wear white after Labor Day or open toed shoes before Easter, and made sure to say my thank you’s and yes sirs/ ma’ams. Our radios only played oldies and Motown, and for the most part, we were a pretty buttoned- up classic southern American family. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty simple living, and it caused me to be a little naïve.

I was thrilled to be going to spend the night with my new friend. I eagerly packed my monogrammed duffle bag and rode home from school with her one Friday afternoon. When I arrived to her house, I met her rambunctious and very cute older brothers. One was in eighth grade, the other was a senior, and they were definitely not like my golden child brother. The entire house was full of noisy laughter, types of music I’d never heard, and teenage boy angst. It made my wide-eyed, twelve-year-old self very nervous. The atmosphere was extremely laid back, effortlessly fun, very loud, and unlike anything I was used to. I loved it.

Laura and I played, did whatever twelve-year-old girls do, and soon enough it was time for bed. Thankfully her brothers had left with friends for the night. I was petrified I’d have to wear my thick, coke bottle glasses and retainer in front of them as all the siblings shared a bathroom. Grateful I dodged that bullet, I climbed into bed as Laura got her room cozy for sleeping. I figured she was reaching for a sound machine or the switch to turn on the fan, but suddenly, the lights were off and fluorescent faces of strange men were staring down at me from the walls.

“Who is on your walls, Laura? What is happening?” I anxiously asked.

“Oh, my black light posters? That’s Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix. You don’t know who they are?”

“Am I supposed to?” At that point in my life the wildest songs I was listening to were from Ace of Base during Casey Kasem’s countdown on Sundays after church.

“They’re singers. You know the Doors? Here, we can listen to one of their songs while we go to sleep. I love to go to sleep to music.”

I was so confused. Why had my parents not told me about this Jim and Jimi? As I positioned the pillow under my head, I looked at the mixture of neon pinks, oranges, and greens forming these stranger’s faces and wondered where I had landed and just exactly who my new found friend was. As my thoughts raced, I started to hear the eerie intro of The Door’s “This is the End” come through the speakers. If you haven’t listened to that song in a while, I encourage you to do so, and imagine a clueless twelve-year-old girl in a new place under black light posters wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.

Jim started singing, “all the children are insane.”

“Clearly,” I thought, as I looked at my new friend who was completely grooving with her eyes closed and a huge smile on her face.

After we got through the first song, the next one to come on was “Dawn’s Highway.” I believe I made it through about halfway, when I turned to Laura and asked if we could sleep in silence. I quickly realized the heavy drum beats, the lyrics about Native American spirits and talk of blood from wreckage along the highway were not going to be the key to a peaceful night’s rest. She happily obliged, and turned off the stereo. However, Jim and Jimi remained lit up in all their neon, glowing glory. Somehow or another, I made it through without any nightmares and awoke to the smell of fresh pancakes from her saint of a mother and hippie/ accountant father.

I didn’t quite know what to make of my new friend and the environment she surrounded herself in, but I knew she was kind, funny, and kept me intrigued. From then on, Laura became one of my closest friends in life. Maybe it was because I never knew what to expect when I was with her after she introduced me to good ole Jim and Jimi? Maybe it was because she made my parents very nervous, as they didn’t quite know what to do with her personality, and I was testing my boundaries with them? Or maybe it was because she opened my world to so much more?

Thankfully, Laura introduced me to many things along the way. Because of her, I will always feel my most relaxed and at ease when listening to a classic Allman Brothers jam. Because of her math teacher saint of a mother and her hippie/accountant father, I was able to make it through my high school trigonometry class. Because of her encouraging me to be confident as a young, extremely shy girl, I was able to eventually show my true personality. And because of her, I was always in church on Sundays during my high school years, as my parents had given up on trying to get me out of bed before noon. (It was really because I figured out Catholics don’t have to go to mass until five and don’t have to dress up to attend).

To this day, Laura still keeps me laughing until my stomach hurts. And, she holds a strong faith and a joyful spirit of fellowship that helps build me up whenever I am feeling down. I am forever thankful for that “wild” catholic girl that came into my life at a young age, forced me to listen to Jim Morrison under a neon, black light sky, and has kept me laughing out loud for all these years.

Welcome to the forties, Loubies.

Two young friends heading into eighth grade.

Laura is now a successful Registered Dietitian Nutritionist and Health Coach as well as a loving mother of three. While she is based out of Mississippi, she also offers virtual programs. Check her out at Hart Health Consulting.

Check out The Last Great Event with Jimi Hendrix and Jim Morrison. It may bring back plenty of old memories, thanks to my friends, Jimi & Jim.

I love this notebook/ journal, and I especially love the fitting quote by Jim Morrison.