The Best Years Of My Life

For Addie

"Thank you dear," I said gratefully when Beverly handed me the Times Gazette.

At my age, the most interesting part of the newspaper was reading the obituaries. Even with glasses, I still used a magnifier to see the print. I scanned down the columns and thanked the Almighty that I recognized none of the deceased.

I neatly folded the newspaper that my daughter Beverly brought for me and placed it on the table tray. She gazed at me with one of her patented impatient looks because I was procrastinating.

"Mother, you need to go through this box of papers I found and decide what you want to keep," she said with exasperation.

Why Beverly was incapable of doing it herself, I couldn't fathom. I had reached the "who gives a damn" stage of my life. I was weary and wanted to say,

"Throw it in the trash," but held my tongue.

The house I grew up in and spent most of my adult life was sold and closing was in less than a week.

Unable to care for myself any longer, I reluctantly moved to a God forsaken nursing home. I knew my only means of escape was in a pine box and it was just a matter of time.

"At least I have that to look forward too," I thought very cynically to myself.

Except for Beverly and my granddaughter Jessica, everyone I had known and loved had preceded me in death.

Beverly handed me a pile of papers and it took me a good half hour before I said to burn them. I was feeling very tired but accepted another stack where I found a faded manilla style folder.

Inside was the newspaper obituary for Adelaide Emily Wilburne.

"Oh Addie," I mumbled sadly to myself and tears shrouded my eyes.

In spite of the long expanse of time, just seeing her name filled me with longing for days gone by. Beverly looked at me with concern.

"Mom, what's wrong?" she asked in a serious tone.

I held the obit and wept with sorrow. I couldn't even begin to explain to Beverly what the scrap of paper with the name on it meant to me.

The next morning, I was sitting up eating my breakfast in a sullen mood when Beverly appeared in my doorway with a worried expression.

"Hi mom, feeling better today?" she asked with kindness.

"Yes dear," I said with a fake smile.

I had spent most of the previous night feeling sorry for myself as I tearfully remembered Addie and the wonderful times that we shared in our youth.

"Silly old fool, you can't change the past. What's done is done," my mind screamed at me in chastisement.

That morning, I resolved to tell Beverly about Addie and the impact she had on me.

"I want to tell you the story of my life before I met your father," I stated firmly.

Beverly was staring at me with wide eyed curiosity but just thinking about Addie and I got choked up. When I tried to speak, my voice was cracking.

"Mom, you don't have to say anything but is it about the obituary you found?" she asked with sympathy.

As I gazed at my daughter, I lost my nerve and buried my weeping face in my hands. Beverly tried to soothe me and rubbed my back very gently but it was impossible for me to go on.

I wanted to tell Beverly that the person in the obituary was my best friend, my first true love and that I still had undying love for her in my heart.

But, what purpose would be served? Beverly believed that her father was my first love and I didn't want to spoil that for her.

When Beverly was growing up, she was the type of child every parent wished they had. She was intelligent, funny, caring, respectful, loving and compassionate. When she graduated from medical school, I don't think there was a more proud parent on the planet than me.

I loved my daughter and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings. So, I decided that the story of my life with Adelaide Wilburne would remain inside of me.

For my own edification, I resolved to put my memories of Addie in a cohesive order.

"Get a hold of yourself Madelyn and start from the beginning," I heard Addie politely admonish me in my mind.

With steadfast determination, I lay on my bed recalling my earliest memories of the person that I treasured above all others and had the greatest impact on my life.

1929:

My mother was standing in my bedroom holding a freshly ironed dress.

"I don't want to go in that old thing," I stated in a whiny voice with a sour expression on my face.

"Mrs. Wilburne and I are old friends and they are expecting you," my mother stated firmly and by the tone of her voice, I was fighting a lost cause.

Old friends? Since when? The Wilburne's lived on the other side of the tracks, the wealthier side.

Adelaide Wilburne was my classmate in fourth grade and invited everyone to her St. Valentines Day party. We sat next to each other and became very chummy.

In the spirit of friendly competition, we conducted an academic rivalry and it really solidified our friendship. Whenever Miss Persell, our teacher, handed back a test, we compared scores and kept a running total.

We were the top two students and although Adelaide was ahead, she never rubbed it in. With her smiling youthful face, she would encourage me to do better. In the 1920's parties with elaborate decorations and holiday themes were held frequently. We dressed in our Sunday best for every affair except Halloween.

The problem for me was the lack of up to date and stylish clothes to wear. The dress my mother was holding was a hand me down from my sister Pauline. I wanted to wear a new dress but my protests were falling on deaf ears.

Adelaide or Addie as she preferred, was at the door greeting everyone as they came in. I had been to her house a few times and stared with wonder at the furnishings and décor.

Although not wealthy by the standards of today, the Wilburne's were doing better than most us. But, Addie was the last person to lord it over someone because her folks had some money.

"Hello Madelyn, I'm so glad you could come," she said sweetly when I arrived and rolled her eyes with a pained expression.

Luckily for me, no one commented about my dress and I had a good time. Beautiful paper decorations festooned the parlor with a table of the most delectable sweets. We played party games and I won my favorite, musical chairs.

Stuffed with candy and cake, I was putting my coat on and felt sad that I had to leave. I enjoyed Addie's company and appreciated the time we spent together.

"Thank you for coming," Addie said politely and rolled her eyes with the same pained expression.

Under her breath, she muttered,

"I'm sick of saying those silly words," and winked at me.

That's what I liked about Addie, she had a no nonsense attitude and wit as sharp as a tack.

In fifth grade, Elmer Ross was having a Halloween party to end all Halloween parties and the entire class was invited. I wracked my brain trying to think of a costume but Adie came up with the best idea, Charlie Chaplin.

We raided her brother's closet and even found an old bamboo style Carney cane. When Addie dressed me, even I was convinced I looked like the "Little Tramp".

Friday the twenty ninth, was the day before the party and excitement had reached a fever pitch at school. Elmer's dad was offering a five dollar prize to the person with the best costume.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, I was in great spirits until I got home. Something called a stock market had crashed and my folks were looking pretty glum.

Saturday morning my mother told me that the Halloween party was cancelled, much to my dismay. She didn't tell me at the time but Elmer's dad shot himself in the head because he lost every penny they had in the crash.

At first, life went on as usual but within a year, my father lost his job as did many others. Even Addie's family got knocked down a few pegs and struggled like the rest of us.

My mother took in wash to earn extra money and I delivered the finished bundles for tips. Addie's house was on my route and her mother always gave me a dime.

"A whole ten cents," I would marvel staring at the shiny silver coin.

But, I faithfully gave the money to my mother so she could buy bread or whatever to keep us going.

The routine at Woodrow Wilson Grammar School was the same but the students wore shabbier clothes, beat up shoes and ate far less at lunch, some had nothing.

Addie always shared her food with me. On the days when I had a decent amount, she helped a fellow classmate. The compassionate side of her personality endeared her to me.

The grand holiday and birthday parties we all looked forward to with eager anticipation were scaled down dramatically and many ceased.

Addie threw a St Valentine's Day party every year but the refreshment table was pared to a couple of sweets and punch. The once grand parlor filled with furniture and art work was now almost empty, save for a few chairs and a love seat.

Dark outlines on the walls showed where a painting had been removed and probably sold to keep the family afloat. Party decorations were homemade and very modest.

Addie and I remained good friends but my once abundant free time was at my mother disposal. She had various money making enterprises and I was at her mercy.

On the occasional Saturday when I was freed from my mother's bondage, Addie and I walked to the Crown Theater to catch the matinee for the bargain price of ten cents. With the news reels, cartoons, a couple of two reelers and a feature, it lasted all afternoon.

I loved the Our Gang comedies but when the Andy Hardy pictures with Mickey Rooney premiered, they became my favorite.

Addie always bought a five cent box of hard candy at the concession stand and shared it with me. Occasionally, we had enough spare change for a Hershey bar and savored the rich taste of the chocolate.

Eventually, my father got a job through the WPA but the work projects were out west and he was rarely home. Once a month he wired money to my mother through Western Union.

It was enough to pay the mortgage on the house and buy some groceries but none of us complained. At least we had a roof over our heads and food to eat when many were a lot worse off.

On her thirteenth birthday, Addie received a bicycle from her parents. It was used of course and she let me ride it whenever I wanted. She was a daredevil at times and tried to do stunts like the circus performers who came to town.

Addie was flying down Barren Hill Road trying to keep the bike straight while she balanced herself and brought her knees up to the seat. Slowly, she extended one leg but the front wheel jack knifed and she went tumbling over the handle bars.

"Addie! Addie!" I yelled and ran up to where she lay in the dirt.

When I reached her, Addie was smiling and on first glance uninjured.

"Did you see that?" she cackled with laughter.

But when Addie tried to stand, she cried out in pain. With her arm around my shoulder, I helped her to the house. A trip to the hospital confirmed a hairline fracture of the ankle and meant she would miss at least two weeks of school.

Every afternoon when the bell rang I ran to Addie's house with her assignments and homework. As we wrote our lessons in a copy book, I would gaze with fascination at the way Addie's face was tilted to the side with a serious expression while her pencil moved effortlessly on the paper.

Mrs. Wilburne always brought us cookies and milk for a snack. Addie had a graceful way of breaking the treat and eating the bits with her fingers that intrigued me.

Occasionally my mother would say to me at meal times,

"Madelyn, you eat like a field hand."

Now I understood why.

When Addie returned to school on crutches, I looked after her as though I was her guardian angel.

No one was more appreciative than Addie.

The afternoon she was finally free of the cast, I went to visit Addie. She was sitting cross legged on her bed studying but when she saw me, she smiled broadly and handed me a small box wrapped with a bow.

"Thank you Madelyn, thanks for all your help the past six weeks," she said with gratitude in her voice.

I was speechless and just stared at Addie.

"Are you going to open your gift?" she asked with kind curiosity.

I carefully opened my present and inside I found pencils, a fountain pen, hair ribbons and barrettes; a treasure trove in the Depression. It was better than Christmas Day at my house.

"Gee Addie, why...I'm...you didn't have to...thanks a bunch," I stammered bashfully but my emotions got the better of me.

Seeing my teary eyes, Addie hugged me.

In junior high school, the inexorable journey toward puberty overtook us. Addie developed first and it was a full year or better before it happened to me.

In fact, I was one of the last in my class. Lillian Barrett was by far the most mature looking. When I stood next to her, I felt like her kid sister.

My lack of growth in certain areas was a cause for alarm with me. I had several panicky conversations with Addie who assured me that it would take place.

When it finally occurred, my skinny body was still skinny just curvier. My mother said I was slim but my small breasts were a big disappointment to me.

The summer we were both fifteen, Addie's family went to Atlantic City for a few days and invited me. I had to beg my mother to buy me a bathing suit but it came from the second hand clothing store and didn't fit me properly.

Of course, Addie's fit her and she looked like the young bathing beauty in the billboard ads on the Boardwalk. She did her best to adjust and safety pin my suit until it looked acceptable.

I was infatuated with Addie and stayed by her side. Under the shade of a beach umbrella, I stared at her creamy white skin, shiny brown hair cut in a bob style and bigger chest with envy but admiration too.

I remember my mother telling me Addie resembled Louise Brooks, a Ziegfeld Follies girl and actress in the roaring twenties. She found an old magazine and Addie looked a lot like her right down to the hair style.

Our days on the beach were spent swimming in the surf and chattering about the life guards; who was the most handsome, who had the best body, who did we want to rescue us.

I distinctly remember thinking that if I was drowning in the ocean, I wanted Addie to save me.

Her older brother Parker took a shine to me and unexpectedly kissed me under the Boardwalk. Afterwards, I wiped my mouth and spat in the sand with disgust.

One evening, Addie's father took us to Childs Restaurant for dinner, a real treat. A huge roast encased in chains was hanging over a fire and dripped grease into a pan. I can still smell the overpowering aroma of charred meat drifting in the air.

I admitted to Addie that I was hungry for the roasted beef platter but it was far too much food for me. She insisted on ordering it and shared the adult size dinner with me.

That was Addie, thoughtful and caring to a fault.

Afterwards we went to the Million Dollar Pier and rode the roller coaster. I gazed at Addie next to me and her laughing face in the glow of the lights remained as one of my fondest memories.

We were walking back to the Chalfonte Hotel and Addie took my arm.

"Did Parker try to kiss you," she asked with concern.

"Yes," I answered quietly.

"He told me he thought you were the cats' pajamas," she stated with a smile.

I could have cared less what Parker said. Right then and there, what Addie thought of me was all that mattered.

On our last day, I got sunburned and went home miserable. Addie was sympathetic and tried to comfort me as we rode the train back to Pennsylvania Station.

My mother was applying some lotion to my back when Addie made a rare appearance at my house.

"My mother says this works the best on sunburn," she said politely and handed her a bottle.

As my mother spread some of the new concoction on my very red skin, Addie sat next to me and held my hand as the stinging pain slowly receded.

I was overwhelmingly impressed by her kindness when she had every right to be angry with me. When we were on the beach that morning, I ignored her pleas to limit my time in the sun and sit with her under the umbrella.

It was the petulant part of my personality that I sometimes had trouble controlling. We went to the bath house to change for the journey home and my back, arms and chest were beet red.

"You're a good friend to me," I said to Addie in a sorry voice and squeezed her hand for emphasis.

Addie's sixteenth birthday party was only a couple of days away and I was in a flap about her gift. The stationers store in town had exquisite flowered note paper but it cost a dollar, a pricey sum during the Depression.

I was positive that Addie would really like it and I begged/ borrowed some money from my sister Pauline.

When Addie opened my gift, her face brightened with a look of joy.

"Madelyn, how thoughtful; I adore it!" she gushed and hugged me with gratitude.

I purposely lingered until everyone left the party because I cherished the times we spent together, just the two of us

As we organized the greeting cards and gifts, I admired the scent from a small bottle of eau de toilette. The colognes that I used were on my sisters' dresser and without her knowledge. Addie insisted that I take it but I refused.

"I have plenty of perfumes," she countered and pressed it into my hand.

"Thank you," I said tearfully with gratitude.

As we sat on the parlor floor, I looked at Addie and realized that she had matured into a lovely young woman. She was very popular at school and now that she was sixteen she was allowed to go on dates. I was thinking how that might affect our very close friendship. Unexpectedly, the boy's in my class asked me about as much as they asked Addie. At first, I found it annoying because I never considered myself attractive or pretty and complained to her.

"Madelyn, look at yourself," she ordered as we stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom.

All I saw was a skinny girl with long dark blonde hair that I wanted to cut to a more fashionable style.

"What am I looking for?" I asked in frustration with emphasis on the word "for".

"You don't see Jean Harlow in the reflection?" she questioned.

Jean Harlow was a very pretty platinum blonde movie star of the 1930's.

"No, Marie Dressler," I answered with sarcasm.

Addie belly laughed from my comment. Marie Dressler was a popular actress but she looked like a sour pussed old grandmother.

"Anyway, your pretty, I'm not" I said and Addie stopped laughing.

"You think I'm pretty?" she asked with surprise.

"Sure, the prettiest girl in our class," I stated with conviction and meant it.

I wanted to tell Addie about her inner beauty but chickened out when her beautiful green eyes moistened with tears.

"That's the nicest, sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she stated with emotion in her voice and hugged me.

Our last two years in high school were nothing short of memorable. Addie insisted that we keep our academic rivalry alive. We were in the top scholastic group and competition was fierce.

Once I got over my trepidation about dating boys, I went out with them and usually double dated with Addie. If we really liked our dates, we weren't above some post date kissing and hand holding. But, that's as far as it went. After all, it was the 1930's and nice girls didn't...

My dream since childhood was to be a teacher but with my parents' financial situation, I had little chance of attending college.

At the end of junior year, my high school counselor told me about a scholarship to the local teachers college that was being offered for the first time to a female candidate.

An oral and written exam given by the college would determine the winner by the top score. With high hopes, I registered for the test. When I told Addie, she was overjoyed but insisted that I study with her.