You Always Think You Have Time ...

You always think you have time, and then one morning 
you get an unexpected phone call, and you realize you that you don't.

I received such a call from my sisters Donnie and Barbie, almost two weeks ago.
They broke the devastating news that I was about to lose a special friend.
Then, a few days ago, Donnie called, and I knew my friend was gone.
Actually, all that my friend was disappeared days before her body failed.

My friend lived a long way from me, and my only comfort was
that her family read my final email to her while she was still aware.

I am sharing this to remind you that life is fleeting
and that even the most vibrant, active person can unimaginably be struck down,
that life is precious and you must make the most of it while you have it,
that you must hold the people you love close
and tell them how important they are to you and why,
and that you must never take life, time, and people for granted in the busyness of life
because you always think you have time.

I've been through all kinds of powerful emotions since that first devastating phone call,
but tonight I am feeling peace and a quiet grateful joy.
I've been poring through photographs, and letters, and newspaper clippings for days,
reliving our friendship of almost fifty-one years.
I am thankful that my friend is in a better place and beyond pain and suffering.

We met in early September 1968 in Geology 100,
two of four girls very visible in a class with fifty some guys.
It was a time when few young women tackled geology, and we survived together.

Surviving and Thriving

Yours Truly (left)  Lynn (right)

Geology, Acadia  

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

We both thought geology was the coolest thing ever!
The classes, the labs, the field trips, it was exciting,
as was the camaraderie we developed with some great guys.

And most of them were great, although there were a few guys
who did everything they could to drive us out of our major.
They didn't.  We were there for the long haul.

Camaraderie at Its Best

Paul and Lynn

Geology, Acadia  

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

The two of us made the front page of The Northern Miner newspaper
in the summer of 1969, Canada's leading mining journal, the bible of the industry.
That was because we were part of the first female crew
hired by a private company to do geological field work in Nova Scotia:
prospecting for gold!

Of course we were teased terribly,
because this was not how girls were supposed to look
or behave in the summer of 1969!

  

We had lots of geological adventures, but more importantly
we shared the secrets of our hearts and minds,
all the silly boyfriend and love drama,
the hopes and dreams of teenagers changing into young women,
the antics and crazy situations find yourself in when you are young and immortal.

We persevered, we graduated, we married. 
We ended up in different countries with a continent between us.
We rarely saw each other, but we remained in constant touch throughout the years
throughout the challenges of life.
She was grounded and rooted; I was the rolling stone.

Camaraderie at Its Best

Me, Lynn, and Elsie (who followed us into geology) 

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

It's unimaginable that my healthy, active, vibrant friend 
was quickly struck down by an aggressive illness out of nowhere.

I have another hole in my heart that will never close.

I sometimes feel my heart has turned to Swiss cheese;

I've lost too many people I have loved.

But I have learned to find joy in my memories of those I have lost

and to hope that somewhere in time or outside of it we will meet again.

My friend lived a full and active life, so loved by so many.

My heart aches for all the people who knew and loved Lynn.

I hope, that like me, they are finding solace in their memories and their hopes.

I remember one rainy afternoon in Portree, Cape Breton,

when it was too cold and too wet to work outside in the field.

Lynn, Elsie, some neighborhood kids, and I found a stack of dusty old 78s

in a forgotten corner of our outbuilding office.

We discovered a gem, the original 1957 recording of "Daddy Cool" by the Rays.

In short order we had

our tiny office rocking,

maps, reports, and rain forgotten, 

as we all danced around wildly.

Our Tiny Field Office 

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

During the rest of the summer of 1969 we nearly wore that 78 out,

and boy did we dance and laugh!

This is for you, my very-much-missed friend:

"Daddy Cool" by the Rays

You Tube ~ Oldies Al

Till next time ~

Fundy Blue

When I was young and immortal
and danced to "Daddy Cool"

Portree, Cape Breton

July 1969

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Notes:  
1.  My sister Donnie and one of Lynn's sisters also met at Acadia and have likewise remained
     close friends throughout the last half century.

2.  I won't be publishing another post this Friday.  I sat down this evening to begin writing something
     entirely different to publish on Friday, and out this came.