02/26/2025

Today’s blog

Lynn Murphy Mark

One is silver and the other gold

As a kid in Mexico City, I joined a Brownie troop run by some of the other “American” moms also living overseas. After Brownies came Girl Guides, or Guias, as we were known then. That meant we were officially Girl Scouts but using the original title that Robert Baden Powell gave to this movement. We learned songs, one of which was about friends and how to treat them – whether they were new friends or old companions. “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold”.

Growing up overseas meant that the definition of “family” changed to include the fellow travelers with whom we lived, in someone else’s country. Biological family members were remote people who we visited every three years for several months of what was called Home Leave. As a friend of mine said once, my DNA was in Indiana and Oklahoma, but my  practical family was made of people who started as strangers and became friends. I had several people that I called Aunt and Uncle, adults who were close to my parents work-wise and socially. 

My mother was a decided introvert, but she could make friends like nobody’s business. Now, this was the 1950’s and 1960’s and wives who lived overseas were stay at home moms. There were lots of bridge dates among those women. I was always impressed by the seriousness with which they played the game. But despite the intensity of bidding and the strategy of card lay-downs, there were plenty of whoops of good laughter to be heard. I believe it was that laughter that bound them together. 

This is where I learned that friendships are essential to a happy life. Living overseas, I learned to bloom where I was planted. Because our parents were a close knit group, we kids followed their lead and made friends with the other kids. My closest childhood friends were Linda Carlson and Jimmy Clark. Our friendships were frequently tested when families would get transferred out of the country to work in another overseas assignment. We were sent to Brazil when I was 12 and had to start over creating a community.

Brazil is where I met my current oldest friend. We were in high school together, went our separate ways for college, and stayed in occasional contact over the years. I remember that leaving her was especially painful because I cared deeply for her. Anyway, fast forward many decades to New Mexico when we lived in Santa Fe. My friend and her partner were getting ready to move to Albuquerque. The prospect of being close to her again was delightful to me. Except when Jan became intolerant of the altitude in Santa Fe and moved to Naples, Florida, we had to say goodbye again. Every time I go to New Mexico I make a date to meet up and we continue where we left off. 

In 1970 I graduated from college and moved to Saint Louis for nursing school at what was then Deaconess Hospital, on the edge of Forest Park. The bonds created during our intense training years still exist. This week I’m going to lunch with four other women who call ourselves “the Deaconettes”. Now we are in our 70’s with a lot of our own histories, but we still crack ourselves up relating the same stories of our adventures, some of which involve bedpans and wheelchairs and fried chicken at McDermott’s tavern down the street.

Having lived in Saint Louis most of my adult life I have formed special friendships that are solid and wonderful and absolutely soul affirming. My Anam Cara. (Irish for “soul friend”), Rose, is responsible for much of my spiritual journey and growth. She is the kind of friend who can call me on any BS that I may subject her to and I learn a lesson from it. 

So many friends were made as I worked in various nursing settings. Katie entered and never left. We live apart, but every day we Wordle and text each other. Katie has been such a good friend over the years that I will never be able to fully return the favor. 

When we left New Mexico, we left behind an amazing tribe of women who are absolutely committed to each other. When one is ill, or affected deeply and is sorrowful, the women form an instant support group. I try to make a pilgrimage to Santa Fe every year to reconnect with as many of them as possible. My friend, Sheila, and I have co-written a book. We have the kind of friendship where laughter is a predominant feature.

Today I am going to lunch with two friends who worked with me at Saint Mary’s in the 80’s and 90’s. We weathered some rough times as we worked to improve the psychiatric and chemical dependency programs at three facilities. We have been tightly bonded ever since.

What I know about friendships is that they are based in love, care, and laughter. I cannot imagine life without them.