My Friend Evelyn

Dear Evie,
There's nothing in this letter that I haven't already said to you, but for my own purpose and declaration, I'm writing you now. I'm grateful that we had the kind of friendship that we could always tell each other exactly how we felt so I know that your departure was not unfinished as far as our relationship goes. I just want to put to words some of the best times we had together.
We met a million years ago. Ok, not a million, but at least 38 years ago when our husbands worked together at the Water Agency. We were getting rid of our old phonograph and records and offered it to your kids. Clark was in diapers. You were thrilled with the John Denver, but refused Black Sabbath.
Fast forward now 10 years. Our paths crossed again when we started investigating the Church. Kaylen was just a baby and you had us over for dinner and missionary discussions. I remember sitting in your living room and the missionaries said that we have a living prophet. Flabbergasted, I asked WHERE? You replied, Salt Lake City. Of course my mental image at the time was of an old guy in a Charlton Heston-does-Moses getup. I thought you were nuts. I get it now.
John baptized Robert when we joined the church. It was widely rumored that it was because he was the only one big enough to do it. It was just another bit of glue that joined us together.
You were Kaylen's local grandmother even before you had your own grandchildren. Frankly, you were much better at it than her real grandmothers that she only saw a few times a year. You were there when the boys were born, taking them in as your own. Kaylen loved looking at your nesting dolls and you were always kind enough to let her play with them. Well, not all of them, only the ones that weren't worth anything.
You came to their kindergartens to tell stories. You came to their plays, their concerts, their basketball games, baseball games and even a soccer game or two.
You taught me to crochet. You tried to teach me to knit, but that was unsuccessful.
We read the Harry Potter series together. We stood in line FOREVER to get J K Rowling's signature. We went to the midnight releases as each new book came out.
When I had sunk to the depths of young motherhood and the only thrill was to wait for the Safeway Coupon book to come in the mail, we started a bookclub together. Even when I had to bow out because of work, you kept it going. Thanks for giving me an anniversary bookmark even when I didn't come anymore.
We ate Superbowl Soup every year at my house while we watched the game. You once made lemon chess pie for dessert and forgot to put the lemon in it. It was disgusting. But we have laughed about it more than once over the years.
You stole my flamingos from my yard and sent me ransom notes with pictures. I never told you this, but my kids ratted you out. And I notice that even though you "have" one of my flamingos today, you've shoved him against the fence. That's ok.
You've irritated me beyond belief with your politics. We agreed not to discuss politics, but you always cheated. That's ok too.
We went to the Temple together. We went to movies. We went to Costco. We went to Ben Franklin and Jo-Anne's and even Big Lots.
You were my best Longaberger customer.
You always talked me out of something you liked at my house whenever you came over. Even when it was something I liked, I gave it to you anyway. Sometimes I regretted it. But mostly you gave me so much more it seemed like it was the least I could do. As I look around my house today, there's not a room that doesn't have something in it that you gave me.
You sent me Good Earth Tea when I couldn't buy it at Costco here in Maui.
You came to see me in Maui. I'm glad you did - we had a lot of fun. I think you even liked the trip to Hana. You let me stay at your house and lent me your truck.
So, Evie, thank you for all of this and so much more. I don't know who I'll share recipes or jokes or favorite books with now, but I guess in my mind and heart I'll still share them with you.
Save me a place and put in a good word for me. I know we'll see each other again. Until then, you'll always be with me.

Love you forever,
Kathi

Two Sure Things in Life..Death and Taxes

In the United States, we are innocent until proven guilty. However, when it comes to a tax audit, it seems that the opposite is true. Obviously if you're being audited, you've done something wrong and, by golly, we're going to expose every purchase, garage sale, Amazon order you've ever engaged in. I'm told by the state auditor that there are 18 different taxes in Hawaii. Ah...the state auditor...Hawaii's special version of the welcome wagon. We've filed once. ONCE. in the state of Hawaii and that year is being audited. It's so, well, exposed. Every packet of Mucilex you bought, stops at McDonalds etc. is laid out for the auditor to look at. As an anthropologist, I know how those little bits of unearthed information adds up to profile.  It makes me question my education - do I really know that much about those peoples who went before that we've pieced together with shards of pottery, kernels of grain, and bits of fabric unearthed from a thousand years ago?
So the audit is angst number one. Make the madness stop!!!
On a more solemn note, my dearest friend in the world appears to be closing her earthly chapter of this life. I say "appears" only because she has risen like the Phoenix so many times before that I'm not willing to say goodbye just yet. Over the past 30+ years she has been my confidant, my mentor, my inspiration and from time to time, the biggest source of irritation when she insisted and discussing politics. I've learned to crochet (and unsuccessfully, knit) from her. We've shared countless recipes, books, jokes and secrets through the years. She always finagled a way to take something from my house that she liked every time she came over. But she is the most generous, giving person I've ever known. I hate that she watches Fox News. I even hung up on her once on the phone because she insisted on bashing the Democrats - which she is fully aware that I am - but she forgave me.
We started a Book Club some 20 years ago when all I had to look forward to in my life was waiting for the Safeway Coupon Book to arrive in the mail. She's still doing Book Club. Each year, she would crochet or needlepoint a special bookmark for each of us to commemorate our anniversary. She raised my children as her own grandchildren. Her husband baptized my husband when we joined the church. And when I moved to Hawaii, she came to visit me. And forgave me for taking her on the road to Hana.
It's part of life to eventually leave it. We all know it, but it's not a subject that we want to dwell on. It's like watching a marvelous movie but not enjoying it because we're focused on the fact it's going to end and we'll have to go home. So we immerse ourselves in life, cling to it, and at times take it for granted. We don't want to be the ones left behind, but we don't want to be the one to go either. If we believe in life beyond our mortal existence it gives us comfort. My friend knows there is something waiting for her. I know there's something waiting for her. And I know I'll see her again.
I guess that's the other sure thing besides death and taxes.