Page 45 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 29

Barbara

and Her Mother, Anne

I have the best girlfriends. Each one of them came into my
life in an unusual circumstance, beginning with Barbara. At
age three, she was my very first friend. Our mothers “fixed
us up.”
Northeast Philadelphia: 1950. The neighborhood was
brand new. Predominantly Jewish at the time—poor schlep-
pers who moved from Strawberry Mansion, or South Philly,
or Kensington. Families who had just enough money to put a
deposit down on a first house. Barbara’s mother, Anne, spot-
ted my mother—with me in the stroller—as we came out
the door, and invited us into her house. Barbara and I are still
friends to this day, kind of like Lila and Elena in My Brilliant
Friend—but without the competition or boyfriend stealing,
no malice whatsoever. And her mother became a role model
for me; she taught me how to love and be loved. Anne always
smiled, was gracious and kind, served nice meals, set the
table, and was filled with millions of other little sparkles of
sweetness and kindness—so unlike my own home.
When we were 10, Barb and I created a camp for neigh-
borhood kids. We charged each child a dime, which included
a Popsicle for lunch. As young preteens, we compared breast
sizes. We giggled and made fun of her skinny little brother,
Joel. We played “rocket ship” together, using the glittery
rocks of my corner house as “planets” to touch and land on.