deion called me last night, devastated.
had deion called monk (zak), i imagine monk would have asked if "someone had run over his cat."
deion, a new law student and resident of pittsburgh, informed me that his parents called to let him know they were thinking of selling his house and moving away from miami.
the news hit hard. someone might as well have run over his cat.
fortunately, simba is okay. deion, however, is not.
i spent a few minutes on the phone trying to console an inconsolable deion. just as a frame a reference: when deion is upset, his voice goes up about an octave and even though we are currently separated by some 250 miles, i could see deion stomping around his apartment, arms swinging, yelling at inanimate objects.
that's just what deion does.
when i got off the phone, i tried to explain the situation to the boyfriend who had overheard part of the conversation. for outsiders, the logical response is, "well if you don't live with your parents anymore, then it's not your house. you have your own life. they have theirs. you can't dictate where they live or what they do."
clearly, these outsiders just don't understand.
in high school, there was a group of about 10 or 12 of us who were inseparable -- the "pack of wolves" i often refer to. all guys ... and me. other girls and girlfriends came and went; a couple have since stuck around. i am really the only one who has been "one of the boys" since day one ... when lax tried to get with me at a bbyo (youth group) convention ... until today ... when lax is still trying to get with me. (just kidding; he has a girlfriend.)
i can't talk about high school without talking about The Boys; for me, the two are inseparable. we spent endless afternoons on the boat in biscayne bay. we slept at each other's houses on the weekends. we played football or basketball nearly every sunday morning (okay. they played. but i was always, always on the sideline). we ate dinner most nights at wendy's or texas taco factory or the food court in dadeland. we played spades and poker until 3 in the morning. we threw killer parties too.
and when we're at home together now, nothing has changed. (albeit there is considerably more facial hair.)
i think that our friendship can best be described as a cross between the one smalls, squints, ham and yeah-yeah have in the sandlot and the one the corleone family has in the godfather: we talk about sports and hot chicks; but don't you dare go against the family.
the thing about high school friendships is that most fall apart as soon as everyone starts to go in different directions in their twenty-somethings. i distinctly remember a conversation between my older sister and me as i left for freshman year of college. she told me that i shouldn't cry over leaving because, ultimately, my high school friends wouldn't really still be my closest friends once i graduated.she couldn't have been more wrong.
the truth is that we do live in different cities. and we do have different life aspirations. and most of us don't know where we'll wind up in the end. but we do have one thing: we have our miami connection.
some of us are already practicing law, some of us are just starting grad school, some of us are working, some of us didn't make it through college. some of us are still in miami, some of us live in different cities but close to one another, some of us live in places where the miami-crew reputation doesn't precede us (which is rare, by the way).
for those significant others, close friends or roommates who have tried to befriend the "miami crew," they understand how difficult we are to break into. we're not exclusive; just cliquey.
it's a family thing.
here we are. 9+ years later, and while we live in different cities, have different boyfriends/girlfriends and have experienced different situations, we are still the first ones to dance at each others' weddings, cry with each others' sorrows, and laugh at each others' misfortunes.
but the one thing we have that brings us together, no matter where we are or whom we're with -- is our home. we are family not because we have a house with four walls and a hispanic housekeeper; but because we are a "group of people who miss the same place."
as our parents begin to migrate in the opposite direction of the rest of the jews in this country -- away from florida instead of towards it -- we begin to feel the ground beneath us slipping.
it's not that our bond will become any less elitist (okay, we are a little exclusive); it's that our bond is regenerated every time we make fun of cheeks for being fat or deion for being short or lax for being loud or monk for mumbling or the fines for sharing a piece of gum or dean for driving recklessly or allan for being mexican or stern for being annoying or spirer for having braces or me for being -- a girl.
and that's why it's a big deal for some of us when some of our biological families decide to move away from miami. because no matter in what city each of us ultimately chooses to buy a house, settles down and has kids (gasp), a lot of us feel like we only have one true home. sure, there are couches to chill on and extra beds to crash on, but it's significance is much greater as we grow closer to the end of our first decade together.
it means that we're at the end of our beginnings.
we just worry about the beginning of the end.
because for us, growing up means never growing apart.
i hate being wrong!
i hate being wrong!
I feel like I'm betraying The Great Eight if I don't lamely point out that my high school friends are still my best friends too...We're scattered from Panama to Australia (and not just for two-year stints...for reals) but they're still the photo I have framed next to my bed.
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