I remember having a discussion with a mentor a couple of years ago in which he called me “middle-aged”. His argument was that, even if he granted me a generous lifeline of 90 years, middle age, by definition, would be years 30 through 60. I argued against his logic vehemently (everyone knows 30 is the new 20). I was single at the time, going out often, childless, petless and mortgageless. How could I possibly be middle-aged?
Since then, something has changed. I still remember clearly college life and my 20-something adventures, but they feel distant and unrepeatable. Another fact that argues for the now-rightfulness of my middle-aged status is the fact that I have known my oldest friend for over 25 years.
Megan and I met in the third grade when the McInerney family of 6 (my earliest interaction with Catholicism) moved into our neighborhood. She was a lot of things that I was not. For starters, she was pretty and sweet to a fault, and thus popular. Megan made everyone feel special and worthy and, on the rare occasion that she said no to something (birthday party invitation, sleep-over, marriage proposal), she did it in such a way as to make the the other person feel like she really did want to accept, but it was completely outside her control.
I am reminded of a great line from the movie The Talented Mr. Ripley, where the girlfriend (Gwyneth Paltrow) of one of the central figures (played by Jude Law), Dickie, says of Dickie that “it's like the sun shines on you, and it's glorious. And then he forgets you and it's very, very cold”. Being around Megan was always like the former, without ever being subjected to the latter. She made everyone feel good about themselves, special, even the social rejects, nerds, geeks (before geeks were considered cool) and other misfits that never stood a chance in the cutthroat world of childhood and high school hierarchy.
Megan had other aspects of her personality that I admired. She was the only person that I knew that really enjoyed learning. Her appetite for knowledge was so voracious, that I remember her committing to reading her family's entire encyclopedia set, which she did. She especialy loved math but was equally gifted in the right cerebral hemisphere and excelled at every subject, always among the intellectual heavyweights not only of the Georgetown High School Class of '95 but also at Vanderbilt, where she was only the second person to graduate with a double major in Molecular Biology and Biochemical Engineering.
Though self-effacing, Megan has a fierceness, will power and determination that is truly extraordinary. I remember when she decided to run a marathon but due to life circumstances at the time, was unable to train for it. This would have exempted any mere mortal, but Megan still set out to run that race- and did. All 26.2 miles of it.
Her kindness, beauty and atheleticism made her a shoo-in for Homecoming Court, varsity cheerleading, class president and every other popularity-derived honor.
To recap, she was beautiful, intelligent, multi-talented, popular and genuinely nice.
Based on all this, I should have hated her. But I didn't. I too was just as susceptible as the next googly-eyed dork to her kindness, acceptance and generosity. And there was something else, too. Megan let few people see anything but the sunshine, but with me she shared other aspects of her personality that weren't always unqualifiedly positive, and I with her, adding a depth to our friendship that made it authentic.
During our latter high school years and throughout college we drifted apart. I remember Megan visiting Georgetown our sophomore year and, when my college boyfriend broke up with me, I spontaneously and tearfully flew up to heal with Megan (which involved a road trip to Graceland- totally awesome). Shortly after graduation, Megan married her college sweetheart, John Paul, and I proudly stood next to her in the wedding, honored to be the only non-family member chosen to be a bridesmaid.
We then went a full 10 years without seeing each other, talking only sporadically as our lives unfolded, so differently. Megan and John Paul moved to North Carolina for his medical residency and to start his own psychiatric practice, while Megan left her position in a DNA research lab to start their family (the next generation of a McInerney family of 6, but this time with 2 bad-ass dogs). Meanwhile, I was bouncing around the country and then the globe, working on a presidential campaign, followed by a move to Ecuador, and then a return to Texas for law school and to practice law.
Despite the distance and divergent life experiences, every time Megan and I talked it was like we were able to pick up where we left off. It was always easy, and I always felt good after talking to her. Finally, after her fourth child, it struck me as ridiculous that she now had this whole family whom I had never met. I resolved to drive from Houston to Durham with my dog Max on Christmas Day 2009 to visit her (though my journey started a day late due to the fact that I spent that December 25th on the phone with a guy with whom I had had a first date the day prior- Sergio!).
I spent a lot of the week in Durham observing Megan-the-Mom and getting to know her four kids, who are just as funny and smart as she described. I enjoyed long-forgotten memories of 8-year-old Megan when her daughter Lana said something particularly insightful or when I looked into her oldest son Liam's eyes or when I observed her third child Sebastian's stubbornness.
Like with everything Megan sets out to do, she does it well, and being a mom is no different. She has four children under the age of 7, and where mere mortals would become overwhelmed or impatient or angry, Megan takes it all in stride. She treats the raising of her and John Paul's kids as a full-time job (with plenty of overtime), and takes on the jobs of developmental researcher, nutrition specialist, and spiritual instructor in addition to the more mundane tasks of primary caregiver, like making sure they don't put poo in the air vent.
When Sergio and I began planning our wedding, I knew that I wanted Megan to be one of people up there next to me. She is the only childhood friend with whom I have any real relationship, and I wanted her to meet all of my other wonderful friends- the “family” that I had been growing that was unknown to her. But I know that life is infinitely more complicated when you are mom to four young kids and the wife of a doctor with his own independent practice. Besides, as I learned planning our wedding, we are past the age at which people get excited about our decision to get married, particularly when it is your (my) second marriage.
Megan responded to my request so enthusiastically and without any reservations that I was truly moved. There was no equivocation in her acceptance, just the reiteration of how happy she was for me, and how deserving I am of the love of such a worthy partner. I can imagine how difficult it was for her to take three days out of her life, leaving her kids for the first time ever, and yet not once did she utter a single word about it. She was unequivocally happy for us the entire time, shining that bright sunshine on me. Megan took her wealth of talent, energy and determination and devoted it all to me for the duration of her trip.
Throughout the course of the weekend, Megan told me numerous times how honored she was to be there, and how I was her best friend. With the majority of my relationships, I am accustomed to putting out more affection (and usually energy into maintaining the friendship) than the other person. With Megan, she is more generous with her love than me. With the exception of Sergio, it does not come naturally for me to tell someone that I love them. But Megan never hesitates to end our calls with “I love you!” and every time it leaves me happy. She shone all that love on me during the course of our wedding weekend.
In addition, Megan made me her number 1 priority all weekend long, and I could not have talked her out of it had I tried (I didn't). I mentioned that I would like to get some exercise the morning of the wedding and, sure enough, at 6:30 we were out the door, despite the fact that she did not not have weather-appropriate clothing (her bare little legs inspired one crusty old cowboy to comment what a “tough cookie” she was to be braving the cold).
The cherry on the MVP sundae, however, involves what could have been a disasterous turn of events, but for Megan. I struggled to find a hairdresser in Fredericksburg who felt confident enough to assure me of her ability to do “fingerwaves” for the Big Day. In the eleventh hour, another friend and wedding attendee, Kris Lunner, managed to dig someone up, who, with great rangling and the possible relinquishment by Kris of her own blow-out, could manage to squeeze me in at 9:30 that Saturday. Come 10:45 of Game Day, the salon's doors were still locked. This could have potentially sent me into a panic, but for the fact that Megan, ever so confidently, told me not to worry about it- she would look for a video on youtube, and would figure this whole fingerwave thing out.
And, once again, she did. I didn't know it at the time, but apparently as the afternoon wore on and the zero hour approached (and then passed), Megan was feeling just a wee bit stressed. The youtube video hadn't worked out so well, and determined to get my hair perfect (not to mention my make-up, which she also handled like a pro), she was running out of time. I was completely oblivious to all of this, as she apparently stood behind me cussing animatedly but silently, as I blissfully drank one glass of wine after another. To put this feat in perspective (anyone who was at the wedding can attest to the miracle Megan pulled off), I had literally struggled for 3 weeks to find a professional hairdresser who could claim sufficient familiarity (forget competency) to attempt what Megan pulled off, cold.
Whatever the downsides are to growing old, friendships like ours offset the losses. Megan, you are my dearest and oldest friend, and I thank you not only for everything you did for my wedding, but, after 25+ years, continuing to to make me a part of and a priority in your life. I will strive to do the same for you, and I love you.
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