"Friendship isn't a big thing-it's a million little things"

Kathe Schwartz Oster

                                                                           

I am a writer. I write. And so you think I would welcome the opportunity to write about Kathe Oster. The truth is, I don’t. Why? Well for the same reason I didn’t when my dad turned 70 and the entire family wrote something about him and read it aloud. I hosted the party and just could not capture in words the depth of my love for that man. I opted out that night. It took me 8 years to finally sit down and pen a letter to him entitled, “Legacy of Love.” I apparently have a difficult time saying what I really want to those I love. And I do love Kathe.

Kathe and I met years ago while teaching at Vista Grande Elementary. In particular, I got to know Kathe when we taught second grade with our friend Ondi. She was our “next door neighbor” and many grade level meetings involved laughing and joking and generally maintaining a sense of humor about the kids, our workload and the job in general. Many of us had our own children at Vista Grande including Kathe and myself and for a number of years it really was like one big extended family. I know my children have fond memories of the school, yes, but it was mainly the staff and their children that they loved. At the time, Kathe took a liking for my youngest daughter Shelby, I think it was their shared fondness for leopard print. My children’s father worked a great deal of overtime as a firefighter and there were times Kathe would take my children so I’d have a tiny stretch of time for myself. Sadly this meant that one time my oldest daughter Morgan accidentally shut the garage door on top of one of Kathe and Jeff’s VERY nice cars, denting the roof slightly. Other than laughing about it (for which I am mortified even thinking about it), neither Kathe nor Jeff ever held it against us.

Shortly after the dented roof, I’d hurt my shoulder badly and had a mean a**hole of a doctor. I had had an appointment where he was very demeaning, albeit very skilled at administering cortisone shots. Well, Kathe heard about it and promptly came with me to the next appointment. While there, her body language made it very clear he could not mess with me or he’d end up messing with Kathe. He looked at her, looked at me, and said he would be excusing himself from my care and assigning a new doctor to me. He did not want the wrath of Kathe the protector.

As two involved moms, and five children between us, our lives naturally drifted apart due to a shortage of time. Kathe eventually left our school and so did I years later. Fast forward to less than one year ago. I had just finished a triathlon and received a phone call from Kathe. It seemed my oldest daughter had been in downtown Danville and ended up hanging out with Keith. She had enjoyed herself and could not get behind a wheel. Keith had asked Kathe if it would be okay if Morgan slept in their guest bedroom. So due to the generous nature of both Kathe and her son, and the inebriated nature of my daughter, Kathe and I jokingly say we have “gotten back together.”

In the past year, I can only say that Kathe has become one of my very best friends. She somehow invited me to join her in running, which to be honest, we both hated. She had the goal to run her first marathon for her 50^th birthday. I was lucky enough to have gotten caught up in the training and completed my first one three weeks before Kathe. She was my Sherpa and I was hers. We are now part of the exclusive marathon “club” and it has definitely been quite a journey.

I cannot begin to bore you with the literally hundreds, perhaps even a thousand phone calls we have made to one another this year. It’s embarrassing really. We’re like two junior high girls. But she is the very best kind of friend. She can get your abs fit because she’ll have you laughing to the point of nearly choking on your food by poking fun of herself, you, or the situation at hand. She has an amazing ability to not take herself too seriously and yet can be seriously smart and has a depth to her that outsiders might miss…. because on top of all of her wonderful caring support, humor, sensitivity, loyalty, intelligence and perseverance, Kathe has killer good looks. She recently showed me a photo of she and Emily when Emily was a newborn baby in the hospital. I asked her how the heck could she look sexy in a flippin hospital gown? Kathe just laughed it off. Seriously, that woman is one amazing lady (well, except that she never cooks…but then again, she can throw one heck of a party).

So here I stand, wishing her the very best birthday as we celebrate 50 years of Kathe. For me, I feel lucky to count her among my friends because as an unknown author once said, “Friendship isn’t a big thing-it’s a million little things.”

Thank you, KathE, for the million little things.             Love, KathY

I've Got All My "Sisters" With Me...In The Dressing Room

What is it about women and the "sisterhood" that we naturally seem to share?

Example: I was recently up to Tahoe with my girlfriend.

In the matter of mere days I was once again reminded of why I appreciate my women friends. We talked the entire drive up the mountain, catching up on literally years of our lives. I won't go into any of those details but throughout the weekend I kept stepping outside of myself and looking at the bond she and I have, as well as women every where. We talked, we ate, we worked out together. We laughed, we cried and we shared our fears and out triumphs. We were vulnerable, and strong.

At one point we had both tried on swimsuits. Now, just the fact that we can model swimsuits for one another is nothing short of a miracle. At this point I will admit I'm not fat per say, but I am definitely aware of my body's flaws. And my friend, whom shares the same name (but a different spelling of it), well, hers is just about perfect, as near as I can see.. But of course, she doesn't see that..."we" (my sisterhood and I) all share that common vulnerability regarding our bodies. Somehow it bonds us.

If you want to see an example of sisterhood displayed between mere strangers, look no further than the nearest department store or boutique dressing room. You can put on a top, dress, pants, shorts or swim suit, walk out in front of the mirror and you will get an honest answer from the other women in there with you. Complete strangers will tell you that your butt no longer looks flat, your waist looks smaller or it makes you taller, or shorter, or slimmer. They'll also (gently, tactfully) let you know if it doesn't. And you know what? The recipient does not get upset or hurt, they're grateful for the complete honesty.

Inside that dressing room you'll also hear a lot of laughter. Women are giggling and making jokes and generally it's quite jovial in there. For instance, there was the time I tried on a bikini in front of my youngest daughter, who looked at me and then said, "Oh god" (and NOT in a good way). I'll be the first to admit that my skin looked like a plucked chicken (it was cold in there) and portions of my body were spilling out. Rather than get mad at her, I just started laughing hysterically. How could I get upset (it did look awful) when even the saleswomen and other patrons started laughing alongside of us (and they hadn't even seen me in the "barely there" bikini)?!

Another conversation that takes place in dressing rooms, is the fact that you might share

that when you look in your already-full closets for the next wedding or party that you are going to attend, and say to your friends that you have nothing to wear, they will understand. Or when you say you need new shoes for the outfit you just bought, because the ones you have at home won't work (even though you have several in the same basic black). Girlfriends will know exactly what that means as well. Or earrings. Or a purse. You get the idea.

Or, you can talk to a perfect stranger in the dressing room, like another shopper did with me in Tahoe. She had on a jaunty nautical-striped jacket. She wasn't sure if if had "fake" pockets on it or if they were just sewn together at the seams. She looked at me and asked my what I thought. I went over and examined the garment and determined it looked as if the pockets were sewn shut. Meanwhile, the saleswoman went to consult the manager to try and sort it out. The patron looked at me and whispered, "But what do you think?" She did not want to buy the jacket if it had "fake' pockets (said it was like teasing herself, and her hands would always head to the pseudo pockets, only to be disappointed). This woman knew she could trust me, a complete stranger. This is because women shoppers frequently consult with one another, rather than the salespeople, because "sisters" will be honest (and sometimes, the salespeople just want to make a sale, unless you are my friend Susie, than you are the very best kind of salesperson, because you put sisterhood above salesmanship and are one of "the girls," even while working!!).

Once in a while there are tears in the dressing room. Could be mine, could be a daughter of mine, could be a friend's or complete stranger. Suffice it to say that the other women will understand those incidents as well, and will more than likely lend a tissue or commiserate whatever it is that ails you (grief over a loved one, PMS, body issues, a need for chocolate or just having a sleep-deprived mommy day). No worries in the dressing room, a "sister" will understand.

I know there are so many more times that the bonds of sisterhood women share are displayed throughout any given day. Don't even get me started on women's restrooms, restaurants, concerts, or walking down the grocery aisles at your local supermarket. The end result is like the popular wedding dance song line (appropriately sung by none other than "Sister Sledge") that says, "We are family. I got all my sisters with me." We're everywhere. No wonder some men are a wee bit intimidated or scared by this fact. I think they just need to embrace it and we, "my sisters" and I, need to celebrate it!