They called us a Gang. Jokingly, endearingly, simply because we were always together. Five girls. How we came together, stayed together is something from the Twilight Zone. Rod Serling surely couldn’t crack the code.
We journeyed through High School on winds and waves of girl driven emotions. A thread held commonness between two but not the others, a paper clip attached another two. Threads and paper clips cast aside, we wound the remnants together and linked ourselves together. We thought our chain was steadfast and secure.
If you happened upon one you soon found four more, around a corner, in the next seat, or in one of the other’s car. The din of our laughter from ribbing, razzing and roaring was the spice we sprinkled liberally over ourselves and anyone else who joined us.
Our haven was the “Main Drag” – Big Don’s Drive-In to the “7/11″ ; loop it around and start all over again. We were in our element. There was heedless driving, braying car horns, fervent shouts at friends, enemies and occasionally an unsuspecting passerby who strayed across our path.
Wolf Auto parking lot was the favored hang out, where heaping gobs of teenagers from 13 to wanna be teens conglomerated. We created memories from our diversions and amusements.
Radio dials precisely twisted, tuning in KOMA because the local station only played Rock on Sunday. We knew the words to songs like they were our own and sang them with fierce emotions loud enough for the rest of the drag to hear.
CB radios linked us with the rest of the world. Hollerin’ out to one or the other for her “20″ and 10-4’ing another confirming something profound or mundane. We coordinated rendezvous’ and pick ups and reconnected the gang for a run on the town with the click and static of the 70’s version of a celllphone.
Weekends were mined for minutes and seconds to chip away the curfew hole as big as possible. Often there was danger because we punch the hole too big and the crevasse of the parents brow would deepen as they waited and worried.
We believed our Gang immortal, unaware our chain was flawed, for time was kryptonite eroding it after our mortar boards flew. Now time has become the cure as links are replaced by hands and a new gang rises from the ashes of the old.
An ode to my old gang and the memories, love and fun we shared. A blog prompt given to we who write by Write On Edge with the memoir side of the site RemembeRED. I’m not sure I followed the prompt as well as I should have, but this is how our story came out. Here’s how the prompt went:
This week, we’d like you to explore friendship. You can talk about a current friendship or one from your past, a friend you met over kindergarten snacks or happy hour at your first job. Examine your emotional interest in the friendship and the role it plays, or played, in your life.
The word limit for this prompt is 400 words. While that may not seem like many words to devote to a friend you’ve known for thirty years, try to provide us with a snapshot that encompasses your feelings about the friendship.