Just returned from our island home-away-from-home and had to write about some thoughts that have been wandering around my mind and heart.  The cell phone rang while we were there, and a tentative sound of a young woman's voice asked for me. 

Before I get to the crux of the story, I'd better give you some background.  With the advent of such sites as Classmates.com, I'd been able to reconnect with many of my classmates.  I left California in 1977 for the last time, and had lost touch with nearly everyone!  What a delight to find so many just before my 40th class reunion.  One special person remained missing, my best friend from grade school.  Armida Pereyra. 

I used to show up at Armida's house first thing in the morning to walk with her to school.  I remember how her mom had fresh homemade tortilla's, bathed in butter with a couple of pieces of bacon wrapped up inside ready for us to eat on our way to school.  Armida had been born in Tecate, Mexico.  Her mom, dad, two sisters and one brother were bi-lingual, and were the reason I took four years of high school Spanish.  Mrs. Pereyra used to tease Armida that my accent was better than hers. [Which still gets me in trouble, folks think I understand it better than I do!]  She went on to teach Spanish in college.  After junior high school, her parents bought a larger home in a city nearly 20 miles away, which in Southern California is like a hundred miles if you cannot yet drive.  We went to two separate high schools, and lost contact.  I found her again, a few years after we graduated...just in time to be invited to her wedding.  It was a beautiful wedding, and I'll never forget the beautiful contrasts.  The groom's side of the aisle was mostly made up of redheads, the bride's side of the aisle was mostly brunettes except for me and her youngest sister who was also a blonde. 

After searching for Armida on Classmates.com, and any other "reunion" site I could find, I'd nearly given up.  Until I learned that another schoolmate had a "knack" for finding folks.  Patty said she would see what she could find on Armida.  Within a very small amount of time, she IM'd me an address and phone number.  WAHOOOO!  I phoned.  I left a message.  Nothing.  Okay, so they don't know me from Adam's off ox, how about a nice personal note.  Done. Weeks pass.  Okay, let's try again, maybe they were on vacation, this time with my card in it.  The one with my cell number on it. 

Which brings me to my phone call, and the young woman's voice.  She introduced herself as Armida's daughter, and tells me that my friend passed in 1999, from ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease).  After sobbing, making the poor woman feel bad, I'm sure, I understood why it took her so long to contact me...she feared correctly that reaction.  As she told me, "how do you tell someone their best pal from childhood is no longer here?"  I got myself under control, called her back, and we had a lovely chat.  I lost one friend, but found others.  She and her brother still live in the home their parents bought after that wedding I attended.  Armida died at home, never having been in a "care center", which tells me that she had an extraordinary amount of love in her life.  From the sounds of her daughter, though she lost her mom when she was only 17, Armida's extraordinary spirit lives on in her daughter. 

Bottom line here, folks; stay in touch.  Don't lose touch, because it's too hard to reconnect.  From my Girl Scout days, "Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is Silver, and the other's Gold."  I've used Armida's real name, in case other pals may be looking for her, as I've done for several years.  Not all of us have the research skill of my pal Patty.