Kristen This year, my best friends from high school and I turned 45. With four of us still living locally and one out of town, we made plans to celebrate in Buffalo.
Our friend, Elisse, flew in from Brooklyn with some requests: champagne, Sahlens, and recreating a photo we took 28-years-ago were among the top three.
Our designated meeting place was Jessie’s house – a beautiful, historic colonial in North Buffalo. As I threw my overnight bag in the car and drove into the city, I thought about high school and the two years leading up to it – my middle school years…
I don’t talk about this a lot, but I was bullied in middle school. It got so bad that my parents pulled me out of public school and enrolled me in a nearby private school at the beginning of 8th grade. Unfortunately, word traveled fast. The private school kids began ostracizing me as soon as they found out I was bullied at my previous school. I remember dreading the thought of going to school every day and wanting to just disappear. I threw myself into the one thing I loved: playing the violin. I realize now that I was severely depressed. I wish I could go back, give that girl a hug, tell her to stand tall, and reassure her that – pretty soon – everything would be okay.
I remember talking with my mom about high school. Now that I’m a mom, I have a sense of how hard that must have been for her to see me struggling. “Would you want to take a look at Nardin?” she asked. Nardin was a private, Catholic, all-girls high school tucked into Buffalo’s Elmwood Village. She’d graduated from Nardin 20-years prior, still remaining close with her classmates. “Sure,” I said. A couple of weeks later – after spending the day shadowing a Nardin girl – I knew I wanted to take a shot at the entrance exam. That fall, I started as a freshman.
Back then, no one had cell phones and everyone had landlines. I remember standing over the answering machine one day with my mom. Our eyes grew wider and full of excitement as we listened to the message: “Hi Kristen, it’s Deanna from school,” I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house and hang out this weekend.”
Yes! I wanted to come over! I remember laying in the sun after swimming in Deanna’s pool. She was so articulate and easy to talk to, and she had no idea how much her invitation had meant to me.
Over time, me, Deanna, Jessie, Elisse and Katie became close friends. Our families became friends. We gave all of our parents nicknames. Mine were Major Marilynn and Deputy Dick (my dad’s name is actually Richard but the “Deputy” was much funnier than anything that went with “Richard”). Deanna’s were General Gary and Deputy Debbie. Elisse’s were Major Michael and Sergeant Sheila, and Katie’s were Private Patty and Major Mark. Deanna’s father – who we sadly lost earlier this year – nicknamed us “The Nardin Five.”
This weekend – as we laughed so hard our stomachs hurt and one of us may or may not have peed her pants a little – we realized we are more alike than we ever thought we were. We’ve all taken different paths in our 45 years – some good, some not so good. We’ve laughed, cried, argued, made up, listened, encouraged, and fiercely stood up for one another. We’re not perfect and we know it. We love one another anyway. We have authentic friendship.
We’re the Nardin Five.
