One of the things the nomadic life of an Army brat teaches is that it’s okay to make friends, but don’t get too close. After twelve to twenty-four months, you’ll be moving on, friends will be left behind, and new friends made in another town or at another Army post far away.
When we left South Carolina, my Sunday school class gave me a little silver charm–my first silver charm–a car. “So you’ll always remember to come back,” they said. I was years and years away from being able to drive a car, but I did always feel like there was a road back–even after my charm bracelets, including the car, were stolen in an apartment break-in many years later.
One of the friends I made was Lisa; she’s pictured here with her little brother, Chris.
Their dad was Clarence and their mother was Colleen. Of all the families I’ve forgotten, for some reason, I remember them very well, including plenty of private details about their lives that I’m not inclined to share publicly. Colleen loved music and loved to sing, and I believe she played piano. There was one in their home. Another thing I remember about Colleen was that she called my dad “Sarge,” a shortening of his rank that I’m not sure he liked, but he accepted it from her.
Lisa was younger than I was, and both of us were too young to write letters, so once we moved away, that was the end of our friendship. However, since Terri’s from that small town, I did see Lisa again a couple of years later when we went back to visit. At that point, a year or two age difference was like–I’m grown, and you’re still just a kid! So things were a little strained at first. I remember sitting with her on the piano bench, attempting an awkward conversation, when she finally asked me if I liked a new singer she’d heard on the radio, Karen Carpenter. INSTANT bonding over that sweet, sweet songstress, and all the strain was gone; we were friends again.
I don’t believe I ever saw any of their family again after that visit. I recently found obituaries online for Clarence and Colleen–they both died in 2005. But in my head, Lisa still looks as she does in this photo, they are still a young family, still enjoying music together–and when I think of them, it’s yesterday once more.