It was hard picking music for this. In 1979 there was Message in a Bottle, Money for Nothing, Highway to Hell, My Sharona, Heart of Glass, Rock the Casbah...and there was The Cars.
Jeanette was like the sister I never had. Her mom loved me. Most especially because I ate all my vegetables, that was the sweetest.
This is us at a party—I have no idea what we are playing. The way we're holding our Player's Light cigarettes—I miss smoking the most.
Nothing dates you like a pile of empty stubbies. I smile when I see a Molson Golden label—mostly we drank Canadian.
I loved beer.
She had a couple of good men. They always played lots of sports, so there was time for us.
We met at a department store lunch counter. I was working the grill, and she was serving—in our orange polyester uniforms. Sometimes on Saturday mornings, we were sweating out a hangover. I think we clocked in a few times directly from an all-nighter.
Laughter was hard and easy between us.
In the wee hours of one Sunday morning, we outran the cops in her Toyota Celica. Don't ask me how we did it. I was too busy trying to sober up quickly. Skidded into a driveway with the lights off and cut the engine. We would have been in royal shit if caught.
Our style was similar, and we shared clothes.
The only time I was a bridesmaid was for her. The dresses didn't suck or cost a fortune. I have a hilarious picture of us from that day. I was going to use it and let you caption it for fun.
Jeanette was the kind of friend who told hard truths and then stuck around.
There were some life hardships then—my parents busting up being one of them.
We had a beautiful family home—nice landscaping, a pool—then the whole thing imploded. It felt like strangers lived there.
To find a place to go where there was laughter and love was everything. It means more now than ever.
Some friendships don't go the distance, but they're damn good in their time.