Searching for Cindy

I’d like to be able to play it cool and pretend that I haven’t thought about her all these years. I’d like to be able to act like she never crossed my mind, but I’d be a liar. I feel like I’ve found a long-lost friend. Mostly because I have.

Cindy and I were inseparable for a lot of years. I can remember the first time I met her. We Catholic School girls had to go to the public school to view the famous “growing up” film with the public school 6th graders. There Cindy sat in a desk close to the window on the far side of the room. She didn’t stand out too much except for the obvious reason that she was a lot bigger than the other girls. Taller and heavier, but looking older than her 6th grade. I remember asking Lisa Smith who that girl was. I was fascinated by this girl who cracked jokes and laughed even though we were about to view the most mortifying film in cinematic history. Lisa told me that her name was Cindy, and she played softball with her.

Cindy and I didn’t become really close until she and my friend Angie ended up living in the same apartment building. We all hung out together, going swimming, riding bikes, and generally just being idiots. We laughed a lot those days. Sometimes I think we were the only ones who could keep each other sane. Angie, Cindy and I.

When I went to public school in 9th grade, things really got interesting. Cindy and I were best friends. We drank a lot and smoked a lot, which in hindsight, was REALLY stupid, considering our ages. We probably started drinking when we were about 15 and I would rather die than have my daughter follow my footsteps. Then again, in the small town I grew up in, there wasn’t much else to do, so I can excuse myself with that reason. It’s worked for me all these years.

I could spend hours going on and on about Cindy, and eventually I will. We had some times that were so memorable that not only do we laugh about them, but complete strangers have also passed the stories down to their kids. I tell my daughter a lot of our stories. The innocent ones, like wrecking our bikes about every day. Going swimming. Going to the movies. Exploring the trails around Doane. Doing things that small town girls do. Small town girls who were, for the most part, innocent.

I’m not sure of the exact time I realized Cindy was gay. Oddly enough, it didn’t matter. I never felt like she was after ME, or found ME attractive or looked upon me as a possible mate. It never seemed like that, and Cindy told me years later she was no more interested in me that way than I was interested in her that way. I think I felt bad because for a lot of years, Cindy was involved in relationships with men, in what I assume now was a desperate attempt to deny who she really was. We were roommates for a while, (ACTUAL ROOMMATES) and I KNOW she was, um, involved with guys.

Later, I can remember meeting up with her after she had moved away, and her “coming out” to me. Well, I kind of threw her out. She was hem-hawing around and I just blurted out, “Cindy, if you’re trying to tell me about you and Colleen (her girlfriend at the time), I already know. Big deal.” She just sat in my passenger seat and stared at me.

Her: “You know?”
Me: “I guess I’ve always known. Who cares?”
Her: great big sigh of relief.

It was never a point between us.

One of these days, I’m going to blog a bullet pointed thing of all the stupid things that Cindy and I either did or said. I’ll blog about the parties we had, the laughs we had and the general all-around good times we shared. Right now I don’t feel much like going into that because it’s going to take a little more thought on which ones to include. I’d include them all, but there is only so much bandwidth in this universe.

Cindy and I lost track of each other 11 years ago. I was engaged at the time, and she stopped by my apartment to hang out for awhile before returning to Omaha. I never heard from her again. Sure, I tried to find her. I did internet searches. I had my husband look her up on the crime databases. I had him run her license information, hoping to find her, but to no avail. Short of hiring a private investigator, which was seriously my next step, I tried about everything.

Then, about a week ago, Ron came home with a piece of paper. He was bored the night before and found recent information about Cindy. She has an address in the same city as I am in. I went and bought her a birthday card, since her birthday is coming up, and I didn’t have a phone number. I had Ron drive me past this house and I stuck the card in the door. I’m such a dork.

Last night, the phone rings. My daughter handed me the phone.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me: Who IS this?
Caller: Oh my God.
Me:
Caller: It’s Cindy.

There was some general little girl screaming going on at this point. I couldn’t believe it. I felt like a part of me was back. We talked for 45 minutes. She has been all over the country, basically, trying to find a place where she can fit in. She finally realized that the best place to be was home.
She said she found the card and just stared at it, almost crying. I told her I worried she really didn’t want to be found and would just throw it away and I’d never know if she got it or if she just threw it away, or if she really even lived there. We did some slight reminiscing. What we could fit in 45 minutes on the phone, at least. We’re waiting for a face-to-face meeting. The most ironic part of it all is that she and her mom just bought a house 5 BLOCKS FROM US. So, we went from 11 years to five blocks in 45 minutes.

I told my husband last night that I can finally admit that for the last 11 years, I felt like something was missing from my life, to an extent. It didn’t reflect at all on how happy I am with this life I’ve developed for myself, it was more of a loss feeling. Now that Cindy has been found, I feel like this part had filled back up. Who knows what will happen. We may learn that we cannot stand each other. I doubt it, though. On the phone last night, we were back in high school, it seemed. Laughing, talking, almost in tears at a couple of points. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, that’s for sure. I look forward to it.

Apocalypse

Lincoln, NE
Updated 1:54 p.m. ET Jan. 11, 2006
CURRENTLY
54º

Do you read that?? It's 54 degrees. In Nebraska. In January. The world must be ending. There is no negative sign in front of the 54.

Must be greenhouse effect.

People, People, People

I understand. I know it's hard to get things some times. Sometimes things are just so darn confusing that they can't expect a normal person to understand, right? I mean, sometimes it darn near takes an Engineering degree or a masters in mathematics just to figure things out, right? I know. I know.

However, "No Parking" signs ARE NOT ONE OF THOSE THINGS. No Parking. No Parking-Fire Lane Only. No Parking-Emergency Vehicles Only. No Parking-Just Because. Yes, Sparky at Target. This means you. Yes, Chester at the Mall. This also means you. Don't even get me started on Wal-Mart. See, if the "No" portion of the sign was covered by, say, snow, or bird shit, or bb gun pock marks, I could MAYBE see the confusion. I could MAYBE see how a person could not comprehend that this sign means "Parking---NO". But, see, that doesn't happen very often. Matter of fact, I have never seen a No Parking sign covered in anything that makes it unreadable.

And Chester and Sparky? See, it doesn't matter if you have your fucking emergency flashers on. The Law makes no exception for that. It's not like a cop will walk up to your car and say, "Sir/Ma'am, I need to see your drivers license and registration because you're parked in a No Par....WAIT!!! Oh, sorry about that, Sir/Ma'am. I didn't notice your Hazard lights were flashing wildly while you're sitting here idly waiting for your spouse to return from the store. Please take my badge number so you can file a formal complaint with my chief for disturbing your shopping and sitting experience."

Also? It doesn't matter if you're sitting there for One Second or One Day. You are violating the law. The Law states those curbs are designated for emergency vehicles only. Not your SUV or your 1987 ReliantK.

My dad, who among his duties as the Greatest Dad of All Time, was also a firefighter for 30 years, used to tell this hilarious story about an idiot that parked in a no-parking zone. The zone was designated for fire and emergency vehicles only. Clearly marked. One day, there was a fire, and this idiot's brand new BMW was parked in a no parking fire zone. The firemen didn't even flinch. They took the fire hose, hooked in to the hydrant, and proceeded to break out every window of the car so they could thread the hose from the hydrant to the fire THROUGH the car. The owner, of course, surfaces shortly after that and starts having a fit and flopping around how he's going to sue, and he's going to have their jobs (good luck....all volunteers, my friend.) and how he's going to make them pay. There is a state trooper right there, and the guy starts wildly waving his entire torso, trying to accurately portray the absolute indignation, the absolute injustice of this entire thing. The State trooper calmly looks at the car owner and said, "Well, sir, there is only one thing to do." The guy looked at the firefighters smugly, thinking he had won the battle. The state Trooper proceeded to write the guy a ticket for parking in a fire lane and obstructing an emergency vehicle. After realizing he had no allies, he got into his smashed-glass car and drove away. They never heard from him again.

My other favorite thing besides the hazard lights making it okay is the people that park about four inches away from THE ACTUAL SIGN. They couldn't even argue in front of God that they didn't see it. It's right there. If there was a way for them to actually lean their cars against it, they probably would. I don't necessarily think it's a direct defiance of the law. I think it's pure laziness. People don't want to walk 15 feet from their cars to the door. Or, they think that just because they're waiting for grandma Aggie to come out, they can sit in the obviously marked FIRE lane. Are you on fire? No? Then MOVE!!!!!

Next Tirade of mine will be on people who throw lit cigarettes out of car windows. Mark your calendars.