Part of being a good girlfriend is learning how and when to say, "I'm sorry." It doesn't always have to be, "I'm sorry. I was wrong." Sometimes the right choice is "I'm sorry that I upset you." There is a big difference. I will write more about apologies and friendship later, but for now it's time for "Girlfriends in the Headlines".
Disclaimer: This story was brought to my attention by my BFF Karla. Considering my addiction to classic TV sitcoms, I have no idea how I could have missed this one. It's almost embarrassing. (Please, don't tell me I also missed a Charlie Sheen and Chuck Lorre reunion. )
We've been waiting for you...Chrissy and Janet, to say, "I'm sorry." Thanks to salary dispute in 1981, "Three's Company" stars Suzanne Sommers and Joyce Dewitt did not speak for 30 years. (This also led to Sommers' contract not being renewed after five seasons. Jenilee Harrison replaced Sommers as Chrissy's cousin Cindy Snow. This, in my book, was nearly as tragic.)
Last week, the two reunited on Sommers' web series. (Suzanne Sommers has a web series?) As you watch, you will see that the crux of the discord was the inability of both women to understand where the other was coming from. Neither apologized for what they did or how they felt, but their lack of understanding for one another.
I am sure that Jack Tripper is looking down on them smiling. Too bad it took them 30 years. They should have paid more attention to the show that led into them every Tuesday night on ABC and been a little more like Laverne and Shirley.
The year was 1981 – my freshman year in high
school. I’ll do the math – that makes me 44. The luster of high school had worn
off and freshman angst was in full swing.
I was one of those Catholic schoolgirls – wait,
that didn’t come out right. I was not one of “THOSE” Catholic schoolgirls. There
is no such thing as junior high for us Catholics, so high school is a big
transition. That transition was amplified for me because my grade school friends
had scattered between public, private, girls-only and the more risky, co-ed,
Catholic high schools. I had friends, but not a best friend.
As I walked the halls between Mr. Jed’s biology
lab and Father Francis’ religion class, I felt a little lost. Maybe it was the
ridiculous uniform skirt that mimicked an Irish kilt. If you ever need proof
that the devil exists, I will show you a picture of that skirt. Only a truly
demented spirit would force self-conscious teenage girls in a co-ed high school
to wear a green, plaid, wrap-around skirt with a flat-paneled front and pinch
pleats across the hips and butt. That is true evil.
I was never the popular girl. I was never the
unpopular girl. I was never the brain, the athlete, the
basket case, the princess, or the criminal. John Hughes did not write a role
for me in the Breakfast Club. (I would however have killed at the time for the leather jacket Molly Ringwald wore and the opportunity to kiss Judd Nelson.) I was the
middle-of-the-road teen. I was cute enough, got good grades, was semi-involved
in extra-curriculars, had a decent circle of friends and didn’t get into too much
trouble. I hugged the middle line, which is a pretty safe place to be.
But it was the pep rally that fall of my
freshman year that made it clear what was I was missing. It wasn’t sports –
they were never my thing. Actually, the most important aspect of pep rallies was
that we got out of class for the last two mods of the day. (Mods were the
invention of some Catholic school administrator who thought he was
revolutionizing high school by dividing the day up into 20 minute increments
called mods. Most classes were two mods or 40 minutes. Frankly, I think he came
up with the concept because the term “periods” made him nervous. Needless to
say, the system was never adopted anywhere outside the hallowed halls of O’Hara
High School.)
As I was sitting in the stands feigning my
enthusiasm for introductions of the varsity line-up, I got distracted by one of
the cheerleaders, Lynn. (If you are a guy reading this, it was nothing
like that. Sorry.) Lynn was one of those rare popular upperclassman who was
sweet, smart and actually knew my name. As she was standing confidently in
front of the entire school, I noticed that she kept looking into the stands to
Haley. Haley was her best friend. They were throwing signs and looks that
clearly only they understood – a raised eyebrow, a goofy expression, a flip of
the hair coupled with a smirk. Periodically it would send them both into fits
of laughter. It was like they had their own language. I had never seen anything
like it before and to this day, I can still vividly recall their expressions.
It was one of the very few times in my life
that I truly felt envious. I wanted a girlfriend like that; someone who could
throw out a nonsensical phrase like “Who be these shoes?” or “Be careful in the
McDonald’s drive-up on your birthday” and we’d laugh until our sides hurt; someone
who could understand my stream-of-conscious way of talking; someone who’d be a
forever-friend. I wanted to be like Lynn and Haley, because they had a
friendship like Laverne and Shirley.
Ok before we go any further with this, I have a disclaimer. I am not, nor do I pretend to be an example of the perfect girlfriend. I am certain there are going to be some followers who know me and can authoritatively confirm that. What I can say is that I am working to always become a better girlfriend to my girlfriends. I am a work in progress. I am trying which is what I hope this blog, if anything, accomplishes - that we will all try a little harder to be a good, not perfect, but good, friend.
So now you may be asking yourself, "Why Laverne and Shirley?" If you are under 40, you are probably asking yourself, "Who in the hell ARE Laverne and Shirley?" If you are in the later group. Here is a little clue.
You will now be humming this tune all day...my apologies!
So why Laverne and Shirley?
First of all, whenever faced with a parental conundrum I dig back to the
treasure trove of classic TV shows from my youth to find some pearl of wisdom.
Would Ward and June have grounded the Beav for this? Would Mrs. Brady have
ratted out Marsha’s best friend to her parents? What type of little story would
Andy have told Opie to help him get over his first crush? How did Rob and Laura Petrie look so relaxed when they slept in separate beds? WAIT - that is another blog all together.
Both my husband and I have found this practice quite
helpful. Take for example this fall when our 11 year-old was navigating the structure of
the atom – protons, neutrons and electrons. Without skipping a beat he grabbed the laptop and jumped on YouTube. Within seconds he pulled up that classic episode of WKRP In Cincinatti
when Venus Flytrap keeps a tough-talking teen from quitting school with a
brilliant analogy of the “hood”. C’mon, if you are over 40, you remember it. If you still can't remember the difference between a proton and a neutron, take a gander.
From my viewpoint, Laverne & Shirley had the friendship
all women should strive to emulate. Despite living in the 50’s brew capital of
the U.S. and sharing a passion for dreamy guys and a tolerance for nerdy neighbors,
Laverne & Shirley were totally unlike each other – like milk and Pepsi.
Laverne was a tough-talking, wise-cracking daughter of a
bowling alley owner. Shirley was a prissy, overly optimistic pre-cursor to Mary Tyler Moore. But what made their friendship golden
was their acceptance of their differences and their loyalty.
Laverne’s dating “practices” made Shirley cross her legs.
Shirley’s sun-shiney attitude made LaVerne wanna clobber her. But despite their
different personalities, they loved and accepted each other. They looked passed the negatives and focused on positive. There were a the times
when each spoke up and deliver the unsolicited and unpopular advice - that only a true friend can give - to keep the
other from making a HUGE mistake (remember when Laverne tried to be a Playboy Bunny?)
You messed with Shirley Feeney, LaVerne DeFazio would be in
your face faster than you could say, "Lenny and Squiggy". You make fun of Laverne
DeFazio’s dress and Shirley Feeney would, well...she would give you a lecture
you’d never forget.
I know life is not a 70's sit-com set in the 50's but I still think we girls could live happier, healthier, more confident lives if we could all just be a little more Like Laverne and Shirley.
lI have been kicking around the idea of this blog for weeks...okay, actually months. It just seemed like everything else was always more important - work, eating, sleeping, cleaning out the junk drawer, posting to FaceBook, blah, blah, blah. I was concerned that my first few posts be perfectly scripted - in all honesty that is what probably delayed my start more than anything. I was overthinking it.
In my mind it was important to be witty. It was important to set the stage perfectly for all future posts. It was important to take time in crafting my message.
Tonight, none of that was important.
What was important tonite, was that my nine year-old daughter walked in the door from the Daddy Daughter Dance sobbing. Not crying - SOBBING!
It wasn't because she had to leave earlier than she wanted. It wasn't because she spilled something on the dress she took so long to pick out. It wasn't because she was just tired and crabby.
My nine year-old daughter, whom we affectionately call Twinkie, was sobbing, because the girl who just a year ago was her best friend, completely ignored her tonight.
"I walked up to talk to her and she just ignored me. I was so happy to see her and she just ignored me. Why?"
It broke my heart.
It broke my heart, because not only was she hurting, but I had to break the news to her that all women over the age of nine know - women are terrible to each other. Yep - we are. You know it, I know it, even her 11 year-old sister knows it. But, my Twinkie didn't know it.
I wanted desperately to convince her that her friend didn't mean to hurt her feelings or make her feel like an outside - that maybe she just didn't see her. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to her. It was time for the little girl who still loves her Barbies and tucks her Chihuahua in under a pile of blankets every morning before she leaves for school, that today she was going to have to grow up a little and accept the reality that girls can, and will sadly, often be mean to each other. They weren't always going to tell us we look pretty, in fact, sometimes they were going to make us feel ugly. They weren't always going to include us in their fun, in fact, sometimes they were going to exclude us. They weren't always going to lift us up, in fact, sometimes were going to put us down.
It made me down right mad and convinced me that tonight was the night of my first blog. I had to do something to reach out to the little girls and grown women of the world and get them thinking. Why are we women are so mean to each other? When it comes to our girlfriends, why cant we be more supportive...More kind...More understanding...More kind...More generous...More accepting...More protective.
