The Van

My best friend’s mom is a smoke show. She always was and always will be. She glows, and at just shy of 80-years old, is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known. You should see her – she looks like she’s 50, acts like she’s 20, and still mows her own lawn. In the 1980’s, she was the epitome of fabulous and had an air about her that made me understand why I was so enchanted with her kids.

She. Defined. Cool.

Growing up, my best friend killed at softball. And when I say killed, I mean it. She was terrifying on the field as a pitcher, and nobody wanted to go at bat against her. I’ve never seen a ball leave someone’s arm so fast as I did with her (and I once dated an actual MLB pitcher!) and, as a result, I knew to stay on her good side. It was like she had a canon for an arm.

I was not good at sports (and had zero interest in participating in them, apart from my Saturday AYSO soccer games where Heather Osborn and I made plans to hang out afterwards, while on the field, during the game). I was a goofy theater kid who knew how to triple time step while singing show tunes as I chanted, “Go sports!” at her games. The following pic is my attempt at pitching. As you can see, we were not cut from the same cloth. *The amount of torment I received from my brother, who was very good at baseball throughout his youth, after this picture was taken will haunt me forever. I do believe that was the exact day I kicked my tiny, left-handed mitt to the curb. Even sadder, I found that mitt not too long ago when cleaning out my mom’s house and…it still fit. I mean, I guess I should be happy that my small hands match my equally small, Hobbit-like feet with toes my husband affectionately refers to as his “lil’ smokies.”

I’m FINE! Why are we still talking about this?

Lori is tall, impossibly beautiful, smart, and so, so funny. She’s been my bestie since we were 12, which means I know her family just as well. When I first met her mom, I was enchanted! She had this magnificent hair that was permed to the nines, gorgeous big brown eyes, a smile that could weaken the strongest of men, and an attitude that let everyone know she was not to be messed with. She cooked dinner for her family every single night, which was on the table by 5pm. Her house was immaculate. The sheets on the beds smelled like clouds, and the couch in the cozy and welcoming living room felt like a hug. Everything about that house on Bellflower felt like home, and I was so happy to be a part of it. There was just something about Nancy that made you feel good and like you belonged.

While she was ADAMANT about not wanting Lori to have the new Aerosmith album for her birthday (it was called ‘Pump’ and she found it inappropriate. But don’t worry…her dad bought it for her. And he probably bought it while he was IN HIS VAN!), she also had words for me after watching a video of my boyfriend and me. Lori and I used to videotape ourselves all the time. We were YouTube LONG before YouTube (and I wish I still had the footage!) – anyhow, one day, my boyfriend and I filmed ourselves talking about his laundry and how many Bounce sheets he had to use trying to get the smell of sweat out of his wrestling singlet, and then we kissed. A simple, closed-mouth peck on the lips! Big Nanc told me she’d watched my ‘pornographic video’ and I immediately felt like I’d failed her! Her approval was everything, and it still is, and to think I had disappointed her was the WORST! But it also made me giggle and feel pretty special that she cared enough about me to want to protect me from any too-young-to-engage-in debauchery. I promised her there was nothing sordid going on, and that was the truth!

When we were 15, my mother was NOT about letting me drive for any reason (even though we had gotten our permits, had taken private driving lessons from Sears, and had passed our written exams with a perfect score. BOTH OF US!) But Big Nanc was.

Nancy used to show up to Lori’s games in her bitchin’ Camaro (shoutout to my fellow ‘The Dead Milkmen’ fans) , complete with her lawn chair, visor, and sugarless gum. She could pop and smack a stick of gum like nobody’s business, and she looked like a supermodel in her gingham-style seat doing it. Every dad (and jealous mom) in the crowd noticed Nancy (as they should!) and she couldn’t have cared less. It was not a secret she was a show stopper, but she never felt the need to flaunt it. She would pull up in that car, set her chair on the sidelines, and cheer Lori on with pride.

One night, Lori, her older brother Frankie (whom I was terribly in love with), and I went to see a movie. Frankie had received free passes while he was picking us up from school by some guy randomly handing them out. Turns out they were ‘Screener Passes,’ which meant we got to see the movie before its official release. It was a ‘gauge the audience reaction’ type of thing to see what needed tweaking, what worked, what didn’t, etc. We were so excited to go because not only was it free, we were the ‘deciders.’ We had to leave feedback about whether we liked it or not, how much we laughed, were there things we would change? What should they keep/nix? It was the closest I’ve ever gotten to the Academy, and I’ll always believe I personally had a hand in the way Weekend at Bernie’s turned out. Still waiting for the recognition of my written contributions regarding that classic film. Any day now!

When Nanc came to pick us up from Lakewood Center, she handed me the keys.

To the Monte Carlo.

Not the small, cute, easily maneuverable Camaro. No. To their other car: the black and white sea vessel on wheels.

Does anyone even understand how big this car was? It was a boat, and the wheel felt like something nautical to my tiny hands. What I’m telling you is…this car was HUGE!

While my mother would shout, cry, and eventually demand I pull over (even though I hadn’t even made it out of our neighborhood), Nancy stayed calm, smacked her gum, and reminded me I was “doing just fine. Relax!” I drove us home, somehow got in the left turn lane a few times (despite feeling petrified of doing so), and she never even broke a sweat! She just smiled at me and told me I was a great driver (I can assure you, I’m not). That alone could have sent me into a panic because praise for being good at something was uncharted territory for me.

I must also mention that Lori and Frankie sat in the backseat like this was normal. No fear. And they KNEW ME and how I was/am! I tell her all the time how I don’t understand why she chose me as a friend: I am a nightmare! I freak out, have terrible anxiety, react loudly and with a fair amount of flailing at the smallest of things when I’m scared, and she just remains…. calm. Always! While I’m throwing whatever’s in reach at the wall, she’s looking at ways to solve the problem. I will yell while stating why it’s never going to come together, then she’ll say, ‘Well, here’s a different way of looking at it.’ When the problem is solved, we’ll laugh and I’ll pretend I didn’t just lose myself, then say, “We really got through that together!” And she never disagrees.

I don’t deserve her.

But this isn’t about us. This is about THE VAN. And Frank. Who was Lori and Frankie’s dad, and Big Nanc’s husband. And man…he was the best.

There’s no real way to describe Frank. If cool was a person, it would be him. He was funny, he was handsome, he was chill. He was (simply) the best. To see him and Nanc together, you understood their pairing (as well as why their kids are so stunning). They were breathtaking.

Frank was a goof. He loved to make jokes, many of which were dad-themed, and he was always up for taking Lori and me to high school in his cool-ass van. This van was EVERYTHING. It had curtains. It had carpet. It had a stereo (that Frank was ALWAYS willing to blast).

As we sat in the back, he would play the best rock music for us, turn around, and tell us not to tell Nanc, then give us a rascally smile and wink. He would tell us how much he loved dropping us off, how driving us to school made his day, and he would always say, “Stay cool, cats!” Whenever I was over at their house (which was a lot because Nancy was, and still is, an INCREDIBLE cook and made the best dinners ever, which for some reason, she welcomed me to join), Frank would walk in from work, greet his family, then point to me and say, “What’s new, Susie Q?” It made me feel like a million bucks.

When Lori and I were 16 years old, her family moved back to Pennsylvania (and I eventually settled with mine in Michigan from California in my early 20s), however; we maintained our friendship, speaking to each other nearly every day (and even to this day!) We’ve actually been “friends apart” longer than we were friends together, and it’s one of the most important relationships of my life. We had to want to maintain it, and we worked hard to do so (before email, before cell phones, even before Caller ID!) Still, we managed to be there for the big stuff always, and now make it a point to not go more than a few months without seeing each other. It’s the best! (Even IF Frankie says, “you’re still here?”) If no one else gets that, he will. Wink, wink.  

When she got married, it had been decades since I’d seen Frank. I was excited to see him, but also didn’t expect him to remember me because Lori and I had both grown so much.

I was an adult, a mother…I wore mascara and had figured out my eyebrows! I no longer looked like a little kid (and may I just say, thank LAWD for that. Me without makeup is a terrifying tale. As a natural redhead, I have blond brows and eyelashes, which means sans makeup, I look like a fly. Or some other such unsettling insect). My husband, who welcomes me every single morning with, “Hello, gorgeous,” has very gently and kindly encouraged my love for brow filler and mascara. He would never say anything to diminish my confidence, which makes me love him even more, but somehow always has the budget for my eyebrow and lash enhancement products that make me feel better about myself. A gentleman and a scholar, he is. My children, all three, know I do NOT get cremated until I’m 1) DEAD dead. Like…three or four days gone and, 2) unless my eyelashes and brows are done.

As Joan Crawford once magnificently stated, “If you want to see the girl next door, go next door.” I am who I am. I don’t take out the trash without my face on, and I make no apologies! Glamour, darlings. Glamour.

When I first saw Frank outside the church, I instantly felt like a kid again. I was so excited to see him and wanted to run right to him. Then I remembered, “he probably doesn’t remember me at all. Who do I think I am?” As Maid of Honor, it was a bit harder to keep a low profile. I’d only gotten into town the day before and had lots of formal duties to catch up on prior to the ceremony. Then, to my delight and surprise, Frank tapped me on my shoulder (my back had been turned to him at the time), and, in all his big and burly glory, asked, “What’s new, Susie Q?” I still happy cry just thinking about it.

I will never, ever forget those mornings in the van, and will cherish every memory of him I have. It’s so wonderful to see his son (whom I still love dearly and will never forgive for saying I reminded him of Shelley Duvall – I kid. In truth, it was a fabulous compliment, and we’ve already had this discussion as adults, so stop bringing it up!) look so much like him, share so many of the same gentle mannerisms, and be such an amazing Uncle and Great Uncle to the lucky kids in his life. It’s also incredible to see Lori’s son, Frank’s grandson, look and act so much like him. That kid (which he isn’t anymore, but I’m allowed to say he is because there’s no way he’s already grown into the charming young man he’s become) makes me laugh until my stomach hurts, just like his grandpa did.

Her daughter and granddaughter are just as precious (though her daughter looks more like me than Lori. We’re looking into it, but I’d swear she’s mine and I love everything about it. Because it would also mean Lori’s perfect angel baby granddaughter was mine, too. Which I keep trying to convince the baby of every time I see her. We’ll get there).

Cheers to this amazing family I’m so lucky to know and feel a part of, and that marvelous van I was so fortunate to cruise about town in. I can still smell that shag carpeting and feel the rush of Led Zeppelin blasting through the speakers.

*And for the record, Nancy is STILL a smoke show who effortlessly puts the rest of us to shame.