Dateline Boston — My good friend G is moving back to NYC after living in my town for the past 16 years. She, her husband, and two kids moved here from Brooklyn, where I grew up. It was fun to meet someone who knew my area of Brooklyn. When G visited the nursery school where I was teaching at the time, inquiring about a spot for her daughter, we were full. She didn’t give up. As soon as a spot was available, it was hers.
G was very active in our parent cooperative preschool. She attended our community events, did art projects with the children, and made me laugh every time she was a parent helper. One of my favorite memories of G came when I was reading an alphabet book to the children. I sailed all the way to V, and I got stuck. There was a picture of a fox next to the V, and I knew that it stood for Vixen. But I wasn’t sure if a vixen was a male or female fox. I wondered aloud. G stood in the back of the children and made an exaggerated female pose, with her legs crossed and her hand on her hip. Only I could see the pose. I laughed and shouted, “Girl! A vixen is a girl fox!”
We became fast friends, and I, being single and carefree, went to dinner at her house a few times. Back then, her daughter T was 4, and called broccoli “trees.” “Eat your trees!” we used to say. They had a cloth napkin system where every member of the family had a different napkin ring so the napkins never got mixed up.
Can You Picture This?
She got me involved in Open Studios, where I sold photography greeting cards. She’s a great artist, and sees things in ways I never did. I learned a lot about art from her.
G was the first person who told me I was sensitive (well, the first person who I really heard it from, anyway). Somehow when she said it, it didn’t seem like an insult. As a New Yorker, she tells it like it is. I respect that. One time at school, I asked her to glue some wooden sticks together. She started doing it, but then I came over to tell her she didn’t need to do it so carefully. She looked at me and said something like, “You asked me to do it, I’m doing it the way I’m doing it.” Basically, let her do what she was going to do and don’t micromanage her. I’ve never forgotten that. (I’m sensitive. Get it?) It showed me that I was being controlling. Since then, I have been very careful when I ask someone to do something. I try as hard as I can to let them do it and get out of the way.
For and Against Movies
G’s husband A and I used to go to the movies together, because G doesn’t like going to the movies. We’d go to dinner and see a cool independent flick. When I was a nanny, I brought my young charge over, and we shared a bowl of fruit on the back porch with A.
I watched T’s older brother grow up. He helped out at the preschool in the summers. After a few years, I saw him learn Japanese the first year he was in high school. Then he went to college.
As time passed and the kids got older, we saw less of each other. She was still there for me whenever I needed her. A few years ago, she helped my stepson get a job. When I see her now, it’s for a cup of tea and trading stories back and forth. Now T is in college—how did the time pass so quickly? Both kids are grown up, and it’s time for G and A to go back to the place they called home before. When G called me and told me, I was very sad and in denial. I’m still sad.
The other day Husband and I went to G’s house to say goodbye and pick through various items she was giving away for free. We scored a giant red rubber fist. You put your hand in the fist, and a can in the hole in the fist, and it looks like you have a big hand. I’m using it as sculpture. Husband got some sort of electronic thing.
I’m glad to have a piece of G’s house in our apartment. No doubt we’ll be traveling to NYC in the coming years—another place to crash for us! I’ll always remember my fun, straight-talking, creative and kind friend. See you in Brooklyn!
Ms. Vaillancourt may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
