A Friend from Long Ago

 Long, long ago, in a land far away (Park Ridge, Illinois), Roberta Brown, aka Birdie, and I were friends. She lived in a brown house a few doors away from ours, so I referred to her family as the brown house Browns.

Birdie and I spent our summertime playing in the sandbox in her back yard. She was about four years old and I was probably about six. She had plenty of kid size dishes for parties with our dolls, and crayons and paper for drawing together. My beautiful stuffed Raggedy Ann doll usually sat there with me. Once Birdie colored a dog purple, so I became bossy and told her, “Dogs are black or brown and never purple.”  She changed it to black.

Many times her mom brought us what Birdie called cambric tea. Mrs. Brown came out of the house with a teapot containing plain hot water. As she poured flavorless “tea” and we drank with little glass cups, Birdie proceeded to tell her mother and me what to do, until finally her mom said with irritation, “Roberta, don’t be so bossy.” We often sat there with Birdie giving orders. Pretty soon I was calling my friend Bossy Brown.

Why was this memorable? Maybe I should have forgotten all about it, but I didn’t. My little friend was showing me something. A kid can try to get along with her mother by ordering her around and get away with it. I didn’t talk to my parents that way. Relationships vary more than I realized in my six year old experience. I did not tell Birdie to stop talking that way. I don’t know that it would have done any good. She was my friend.

Birdie and I remained friends until my family moved out of the neighborhood when I was eight years old. I never saw her again.