Old Friends and a Movie

I went to see It's Complicated the other night with a couple of friends. It's a film by Nancy Meyers about a divorced couple (he's remarried; she's not), who end up having an affair so they can both resolve loose ends in their relationship (they had been married divorced for 10 years, married for 20). It was a comedy, kind of. And although I hate that Nancy Meyer's characters are always over the top, unrealistic wealthy, she does hit on life themes that transcend the socio-economic barrier.

The part that hit me the most was at the end when the three grown kids find out about the affair. Two of them were 12, 13 when the divorce happened. And the kids talk about how they really don't have any memories of when their parents were married. They remember the stories that were told and the pictures that were taken, but they can't remember the "original family" sitting down to dinner or getting tucked in. They remember living with Mom, and that was okay, because she was good.

In my child psych book last semester, they talked a bit about divorce during early adolescence, and how difficult it is and some of the coping mechanisms that kids can use to deal with the pain. It turns out that when my parents separated when I was 12, I implemented a few of those coping mechanisms. One of the mechanisms was being around other families that weren't separated and had a positive mother/father relationship (and those of us who have parents who chose to stay together that probably shouldn't have know that this is a hard role model to find).

My role model was right across the street, and I spent a fair amount of time at their house between the ages of 12 and 16. I babysat their two boys who were 3 and 5 years younger than me. I ate dinner at their house. I spent the night having sleep overs. I dog sat when they went on vacation. We played HORSE at the basketball hoop. We road bikes. My neighbor called me and invited me places, including trips to some random drive-in ice cream and burger place they used to frequent. It felt like I had two little brothers, and Lorane and Jim rocked at listening, checking in with me and making me feel like I wasn't alone during a time when I felt both of my parents had kind of checked out. Mostly, they made me feel welcome into their home at any time. It was an important experience for me.

Yesterday, I learned that Jim passed away on Sunday at age 61. I'm not ready for my friends' parents to start dying. We lost enough friends' parents when I was in high school and college -- abnormally early. But I still think 60 is way too young.