Thursday, November 21, 2013

Tell us about your first friend.

Hugging Friends   By
Doug Mataconis
I had to think about this for a while.  After careful consideration, I want to explain this:   when I think about a person’s first friend, I can think about my cousins.   Yes, they are your relatives, but they act as your first friends and here is why.  They are the first people you are introduced to after your parents.   These are the people who can hold all your secrets from your parents.  You can laugh with them, play with them, and even hate them for a minute, jump back in as if you never had a hash word to say.
So without a doubt, my first friend was my cousin, Tammy.  She lives 4 hours away from me, and I do not see her much, because we are busy.   Tammy is only 6 months younger than me, and when we were little, she was my ying to her yang.   Total opposites.   I was military raised, while she was raised in Detroit.  She’s bossy while I was the quit one.
Our mothers are 7 years apart, separated by a sister and a brother who died at the age of 7.   My mother is older, while her mother was always accused of borrowing and never returning clothes.  I am in a lot of ways like my mother, while Tammy is defiantly like Aunt Liz. 
In a lot of ways, even though Tammy is younger than me.   I love her like a sister, even though we were not raised in the same area, we could always pick up where we left off.
I want to tell you about my second friend.   I met her when we lived in Southern California.  I was 3 and she was 4 and bossy as well (how did I end up with 2 bossy friends?)  Anyway, her name was Elondrea, Lonnie for short.  Our parents were friends, so that should make us automatic friends, right?  Right.   We lived in San Bernardino and she and her parents lived in Rialto.  I had fun spending the night at her house, because we did activities (not that we did not do activities at my house).  At one time, we both had the same type doll, but my doll had two names:  when she was at home, her name was Carol, but when I carried her over to Lonnie’s house, her name was Billy Jo (to Lonnie’s doll’s name of Bobby Jo).
We moved to McGuire AFB when I was 9, but Lonnie and her mother came to see us twice during that time.  That was the last time Lonnie seemed truly happy.   When we moved to Columbus in 1977, Lonnie came out to stay with us for a year, and she was a changed person.  We were getting into arguments, like any sister would, and while she was staying with us, she started experimenting with drugs, and became pregnant with her first and only child, Sequelia Olivet, Vet for short.   I was one her godmothers.  By then, Lonnie had moved back home, because mom and dad could not handle her.
In 1989 or 1990, Lonnie had taken to the streets of LA and started doing drugs very heavily.  After all, her mom took custody of Vet, so Lonnie felt that she did not have any responsibility.   She was also going with this guy during the time.  One night, Lonnie felt the need to steal some drugs off of him, and he killed her.  To this day, even though I live here in Columbus, it is still one of the things I have a hard time dealing with, and I am crying as I write this part of my post for Wednesday. 
I still miss my friend, Lonnie, but I know why.   Part of it had to with when she was 8, there were family members who started molesting her.  This was when I was 7, and that is something that no kid should ever have to go through.  I thank God that none of them touched me, and I think if they did, my father probably would be in prison and out of the Air Force, because no one messes with his little girl.  I guess when she started using, it was her way to numb the pain that she was felling.  I cannot relate to this. 
This is why I urge all parents to please talk to your children daily.  Make sure you listen to all the clue of a drug problem, bullying, or even that they are being sexual, emotional, or mentally abused. Maybe they cannot talk about it, but be there for them, tell them that you love them, and get them help before it is too late.  Keep them from not ending up like Lonnie.  May 15, 2014 would have been her 51st birthday.   I wonder what her life would have been if that family member would have kept their hands off of her at age 8.  Her daughter is in her thirties and probably would not have been born.  My parents have not heard from Miss Olivet, Lonnie’s mom in 5 years.   I know this post is long, but Miss Olivet, if you happen to read this post, my parents would love to hear from you.  Please contact them, their number is the same.
Be blessed my friend.  Same to you, Miss Olivet.  Patti.

PS:  Tell me about your first friend.   Comment below.

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