Page 11 - Susan Taylor

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Friends By Joan Verlezza

Some memories are so vivid that years later you can remember traveling that road with me. We have recently reconnected after
the sights, sounds and feelings as if they were happening again. some years, and it is as if we just talked yesterday.
On an unusually warm afternoon in November I walked home from
Washington Elementary School with my best friend, Marcella. For So think about the person you considered your best friend when
some reason we had been let out early. In the fifth grade, that’s you were growing up. Have you talked to them lately? If not, find
usually a reason to celebrate. them. It’s not hard to do in this information age. Tell them how
much they meant and still mean to you. They’re part of who you
As we walked we heard conversation among the older kids about are.
the reason for our early dismissal. The president
had been shot. We weren’t sure what to make
of it. We were growing up in uncertain times. A
little more than a year before, we had walked
home wondering if the Russian ships had turned
around or if there would be a war with atomic
weapons. On that sunny afternoon we wondered
if the Russians had shot our president.

We separated at the driveway that divided our
properties, agreeing we would change (there
were school clothes and play clothes back then)
and meet at Marcella’s house. I can feel myself
standing next to her, squinting at the televi-
sion as the late afternoon sun shone through San Diego
the living room windows. When a picture of the Woman
young, handsome President appeared, the glare
made the screen a little hard to see. I shifted my
stance to the right a little and saw the graphic
in the upper left hand corner: John F. Kennedy 11
1917-1963.

“I think that means he’s dead,” I said.
“Yes, it does,” she confirmed.

And every November twenty-second since then,
when the nightly news carries the inevitable
piece about that sad anniversary, I remember
that day. I remember standing next to my best
friend and learning one of the most frightening
things I would ever hear. The next three days
are firmly etched in my mind, too. For all of us
who lived through those days the images of
the coffin lying in state, the widow and children
paying their respects, the funeral, the cortège and a host of sad
events are all a permanent part of our memories. And through it First Day of School, 1959
all, my best friend was there. We talked about our feelings and the
reactions of our parents and the world. And sharing those confus-
ing times with someone I loved and trusted made it bearable.
Joan Verlezza believes everyone has stories worth telling and she is pas-
So it was through many years. Whenever there was something to sionate about encouraging new writers. Warming Up is her first novel. Her
talk about, something we struggled to understand, we handled it work has been featured in New England Poetry Anthology. She is a Staff
Reviewer at Readwave and blogs at Second Avenue Story Club.
together. We negotiated our way through the births and deaths in
our families, the confusing stages of growing into women, mat-
ters of war and peace and every big and small event in our town,
country and the world. I want to say ‘thank you’ to Marcella for