Gina's friend, Sarah

April 30th, 2008   a Wednesday

I have been wondering what it really means to be a friend.  Is a friend someone you can talk to, who listens, and then tells you what they think?  Honestly.  Or is a friend the one who just listens and listens and doesn't say anything even when they think their friend could be getting in trouble?  Or is doing something wrong?  And when that friend actually does get in trouble, does the other friend listen and sympathize because that is what friends do?  Some people say that you just have to stand back and say nothing unless you are asked.  Others say a good friend is honest and tells the truth.  What do you think?

Butterfly Bear is my best friend.  He is actually a polar bear, filthy dirty, who refuses to take a bath or spruce up.  He is a devilish little mischief maker.  He got his name Butterfly because he can fly.  In fact, he flies every chance he gets.  You think you know where you left him and suddenly he disappears and you can't figure out how he did that.  He doesn't speak, ever.  But he sings, not very often, a song that he made up.  "They call me Butterfly Bear, they call me Butterfly Bear, and if you want to know why, it's because I can fly, they call me Butterfly Bear".  I know that isn't a complete song but he just doesn't care.  He loves singing it with a kind of jazzy beat and he holds that last note painfully long.  (Ugh.)  He's funny and independent and makes being friends easy as pie.

But then there's Bubba.  He's a small monkey, once a favorite of the little Dutch Boy, who lost his arm in the war.  He is older than me and Butterfly and has PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder).  He keeps to himself and doesn't socialize with the rest of the family.  He wears a Santa hat all year long.  I have tried to talk to him about his war experiences but he just won't do it.  He has nightmares, a quick temper and is grumpy.  He doesn't want anyone's help and I don't think he will ever change.  He knows we love him but it's hard for him to show he loves us.  We know he does, though.

And poor Sarah.  The Dutch boys do not like her at all and have even encouraged me to put her up for adoption but I won't do it because she is my friend and I understand her.  She is a doll with pretty, long, wavy blonde hair.  She wears a pale green satin dress with white lace trim and stretchy white lace panties.  But she is rigid with arms and legs that are frozen in place.  Her knees are slightly bent but worse yet, her arms are permanently raised out in front of her, palms up, as though she is pleading for something.  They won't come down to her side, they are just stuck there, like she is always asking for something and never gets it.  I admit it can be disturbing and even pathetic to see her like that all the time but she can't help that she is frozen, can she?  You would have to literally break her arms and legs to move them to a different position which sounds like cruel and unusual punishment.  I prefer to think of her as being disabled.  My instincts tell me she was terribly mistreated and kept begging for love and care until one day her captors got so sick of it they gave her a drug that caused her to freeze in that position.  Like a sick joke.  She obviously needs therapy.  Lots of it.  To get her unstuck.  

And our dear Fluffy.  He was the littlest Dutch Boy's best friend growing up.  He was very talkative and loyal and sweet.  He was floppy as can be and was often used as a pillow.  Whatever happened was ok with him though.  Then one day his floppy head almost came off his body.  It was very scary to see him unravel like that.  Luckily he was in Iowa at the Dutchman's house at the time so his Dad, a surgeon, operated on Fluffy and sewed his head back on with the most beautiful surgical stitches you have ever seen.  The surgery was a success and Fluffy made a full recovery.  He is now retired from service suffering from sleepatosis, a little known condition that causes uninterrupted sleep for years and years.  (I have often wondered if this condition may have been caused by the surgery but didn't want to question the Doc's skills so I just let it go.  Those law suits can just drag on and on and there is no guarantee you will be properly compensated for the permanent loss of consciousness of such a good friend.)  We just leave him be and remember his glorious past of service and sacrifice.  

And finally, Curious George.  You can tell by looking at him that he has had a hard life of partying and staying up too late.  A womanizer, too.  I can't explain it but I have a little crush on him.  Why is it that girls fall for guys like that even when they know it's not good for them and it can lead only to heartbreak or worse?  

I guess when it comes to my friends, I pretty much accept them for who they are.  You can't go around telling your friends what's wrong with them or what to do or why you know better.  (Even though I usually do, I think.)  If they act kinda dumb, what are ya gonna do?  If you gave up a friend every time they acted dumb, you wouldn't have any left, would you?  But maybe you can be a good role model, like me.  I hardly ever misbehave.  In fact, some say I am perfect.  The Queen of Everything.  (I know what you're thinking.  This is one of those things you are going to forgive me for.)  

GR