Friendship

We were each allowed to choose a card with a random word for meditation at church recently. I first picked the word “Weaver.”

“That’s really not me’” was my first response.

The pastor said, “Then pick another.” So, I did. The second was “Friendship.”

However, “weaver” kept haunting me, and I realized how these two words perfectly intersected in my life.

You see, one of my closest friends in grammar school and high school, Marie [Stratton] Cole is a weaver. She taught herself to make pine needle baskets using the ancient techniques of the Native Americans. She collects her own pine needles, dries them, dyes them using the organic dyes, which have been used for hundreds of years. Her creations are in museums and galleries in the Pacific Northwest. I own four of them, and each is a small masterpiece.

I think she sent me the first one, called “Childhood Memories,” for a milestone birthday years ago. This precious gift sits on my desk, where I see it every day. It is about four inches in diameter, and the tiny stitches form a pattern that perfectly illustrates our friendship. The two colors intersect, then separate, then come back together—just like we have. I always think of Marie as close to the natural world. She loved camping and being out in nature. Today she and her husband live in a remote area of Oregon and is content to listen to the birds and be among the trees. In contrast, I’m a bit of a hothouse flower. I don’t like getting my hands dirty! In the two colors, I saw us clearly: Marie in the grounded brown, and me in the beautiful blue. (My house is decorated in this color.)

We were together in high school, sharing many interests. After graduation, we went our separate ways.

Marie was a bridesmaid in our wedding.

Wedding Party: Victoria Hanner, Marie Stratton, Kathleen Murphy, Me, Larry, Virgil Thomas, Patrick Tedford, Jim Tedford

After we both married, we lived close to each other. When Star Trek began on TV, both of our husbands were obsessed. We met every Wednesday night at alternating homes for dinner and to watch the show.

Her husband enlisted in the Air Force, so we were separated yet again. However, he was being stationed in Colorado, where we were living at the time. Their housing wasn’t ready when they arrived, so they and their baby daughter, Maretta, stayed with us and our four-year-old for a short time.

We returned to California, and Marie continued to move around. But she often returned to see her mother. Whenever she was in town, we went to see her. Not only was she one of my closest friends, but her brother, John, was Larry’s best friend through school, so their mother was a fixture in our lives.

Finally, Marie moved to Oregon, and we remained in California.

However, we always stayed in touch, both through email and phone calls, but also through her mother.

In 2014, our class from Alhambra High School celebrated its fiftieth reunion. We asked any class members who created unique items to donate one or two for a silent auction. (We donated several books.)

Marie sent this charming basket, obviously created just for the occasion. It features the school colors and our graduation year. Several people bid on it, but Larry knew how much I loved it. Even though I already had one of Marie’s masterpieces, I was very taken with this one. Unbeknownst to me, he kept an eye on the bidding and outbid everyone else. It is my favorite memento from the event. This one is about four-and-a-half inches tall and four inches in diameter. It sits in a place of honor on the etagere upstairs with other high school memorabilia.

The following year, Larry and I celebrated our fiftieth anniversary. What an amazing surprise to receive a box in the mail from Marie!

Inside was this beauty called “Connecting Links.” This matches the colors in our living room perfectly! It is four-and-a half inches tall and four inches in diameter. It is a perfect metaphor for our relationship.

During one of our visits to her in 2003, Marie’s mother, Millie, told me she had begun to write her memoir of growing up in Alhambra, California. I said when she finished it, I would edit and publish it for her. Her son, John, worked on it with her for several years prior to his death from cancer in 2016. Each time I spoke with her, I asked how it was coming. She always said she was still working on it.

As she aged, her eyesight grew worse and her typing less accurate. She went from typewritten pages to the computer, but she was afraid she would lose her work when she closed the file. So, she learned to rename each chapter with the current date appended as soon as she opened it.

After she turned 100, she decided she was finished. We went to her house, collected all the typewritten pages, and copied all the files onto a flash drive. Then, I had to go through the chapters, combine the ones that went together, and try to decipher what I thought she meant.

Fortunately, her mind was sharp. If I had a question, I called her, and she always had an answer. Where there were holes in the manuscript, I did research and filled them in. Her caregiver and one of my friends read the chapters to her as I finished them, and Millie gave me notes—always thoughtful and interesting.

By 2020, I was nearly finished, but I still had one or two questions. As always, her answers were quick and to the point. Three days later, she passed away at the age of 102.

Despite my promise to publish the book, her daughters decided they just wanted copies for family members, so I sent the files. (Marie’s younger sister, Judi, passed away a couple of years ago. I still would like to have the book published. I know quite a few people who would enjoy it. But as long as they are reluctant, it will remain on my computer.)

To thank Larry and me for completing her mother’s book (Larry created a beautiful cover), Marie sent us this gorgeous piece, “Chaparral Hills.”

Her inspiration was the chaparral-covered hills around Los Angeles. The white pearl plants are reminiscent of the pampas grass readily found in the area. This holds a place of honor in our china closet.

Each time I look at these beautiful works of art, I am reminded of my friend, Marie, and our treasured friendship. So, both words—“Weaver” and “Friendship”—were appropriate and perfect for meditation.