I've known Risa and her family since I was nearly 16. Aside from my family, I've never known anyone longer. That's a wonderful and weird feeling, for both Risa and myself. Her family moved around a lot, too, though Jerome and Judith have lived in their current home since the late 70's. There were, of course, friends that Risa had before she met me. Even a best friend that she was close to until her early 20's. Now that she lives in Tucson with Joe, she's made other friends that she sees on a far more regular basis. And she has a great many pals here in L.A. that, in some ways, she may be closer to than she is with me.

But we've always had a very special bond that has lasted nearly twenty years. At times our friendship was tested, like everything worthwhile, but we've proved to be strong enough to weather the tough times.

We met in drama class in high school. I was the new kid in school, having moved from San Diego the month before. I saw her sitting down the front row, but could never remember her name. I was told her name by a boy, Chris, whom I had befriended in English class and whom I had a huge crush on. (Never did take me long to develop my crushes.) Chris and Risa had been in many classes together since elementary school and they lived near each other, so Chris was well acquainted with the quiet girl with dark curly hair, pale freckled skin, and big plastic-framed glasses that hid her beautiful almond shaped brown eyes.

Risa and I became good friends. We had a lot of things in common. What we didn't have in common, we learned about from one another and appreciated. I learned about the Jewish religion, which, until then, I only knew about from the Rabbi Small mysteries. She taught me some Hebrew and Yiddish and I went her house for Channukah dinner while she came to my family's place for Christmas Day. And she put up with my Star Trek and Sherlock Holmes obsessions, which were especially keen in my teenage years.

By the end of my first school year at that high school we were best friends. And it was wonderful. Since I was a Navy brat, I was rarely in one place for longer than a year. I was also very shy, very introverted. So, while I made friends, I never became very close with anyone. I certainly never had a best friend.

Over that first summer vacation her family went to Atlantic City. Every summer Risa's dad worked at Bally's Casino as a ventriloquist in their big summer extravaganza. Risa and I wrote each other a couple of times a week, sheets and sheets. Of course, Risa's got huge handwriting, while mine was a bit on the small side, so it always seemed like she wrote more. She asked me to look after her boyfriend Caesar while she was gone, trusting us both completely even though she knew I had a bit of a crush on him. Of course, she was right to trust us, since he was crazy in love with her and I would never do anything hurt her or him. I also walked an hour and a half, round trip, every day to feed their four cats and just hang out in their backyard gazebo and read.

When Jerome (or Mr. Lane, as I called him back then) had his contract extended through the next summer, Risa was heartbroken. That meant that she wouldn't be able to go to our high school for her junior year. After a great deal of discussion (both letters and phone) between her parents and my parents (plus tons of pleading on our parts), it was decided that Risa would stay with us that year. Yippee!!

We shared my bedroom, which was actually a den right next to the front door. A den with no door, just a very wide doorway. Blue curtains with an absurdly large floral print were hung up to separate the room from the entryway, to give some semblance of privacy. We fit her parents' roll-a-way bed into my room, which was plenty big enough, even with my twin size bed and huge metal military desk (that desk made me feel like such an adult, and it was many years before I could let it go) and tall dresser.

Two teenage girls sharing a room for months at the front of the house. You would think it would be a recipe for disaster, but, though we were very much teenagers, we were also pretty mature for our age. And we had fun. A lot of fun. We laughed and chatted about all sorts of teenage girl things and ducked as retainers flew across the room and funny wiggling fingers inspired fits of uncontrollable silent giggles (from me) and the sound of squeaking mice (from her).

Then my dad decided he wanted to buy a house, to stop paying out rent to landlords. And he decided to move the Cyr clan to Simi Valley, which was not only outside of the school district, but in a whole other county.

"But, Dad, the whole reason Risa stayed here was so she wouldn't have to change schools!" we cried out. Besides, I was really tired of changing schools and was due to graduate in a year and a half. So Dad filled out the paper-work for inter-district transfers, which were approved for the both of us. Every morning, on his way to work in Santa Monica, he drove us to school, a half hour from my new home. And every night he picked us up from the Lane house, where we would walk to (or take a bus) after school.

However, Risa missed her family. It was inevitable. So, a few months before the end of the school year, Risa joined her family in New Jersey. We wrote tons of letters again, the backs of envelopes bearing goofy sayings, hers always festooned with bright, colorful stickers, and missed each other terribly, and waited patiently for the end of the school year. I again looked after Caesar and the cats.

It was the last few weeks of school. I knew that Risa and her family were due back in California soon, and I was counting the days. I sat in my Algebra class, trying to follow Mr. Pasternak's teaching as the class drew to a close, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I glanced outside the door and saw Risa sitting on the planter, waving at me, a huge grin on her face.

Apparently Mr. Pasternak also saw Risa, for as I looked at him, he smiled and nodded at me. There were only about five minutes left in the class, so I ran outside and squealed and we hugged and hugged. Our classmates didn't seem to mind that I was able to get out of class early, even if it was only a few minutes. I'm sorry to say, though, that I laughed at her newly acquired New Jersey accent, and took to making fun of it frequently.

Our senior year flew by and we were, again, inseperable. Risa and Caesar, who had graduated the previous year, broke up about four months into the school year and I tried my best to comfort her. They remained friends. She ended up going to the senior prom with the first guy I ever dated (after asking if it was ok with me) and I went with his best friend. (I'll have to tell you the prom story another time, it was truly memorable. And not in some Hallmark way, either. I think Risa still has a mens room door handle somewhere.) Our Senior Night at Disneyland was spent with the same guys.

Fast forward: the year is 1985, not quite a full year after our high school graduation. Risa and I decide that it's time for us to move out of our parents' homes. I was working at a discount department store in Granada Hills and she was working at a childrens' daycare in Canoga Park, while taking a few classes at Cal State, Northridge. So we figure out how much we can spend (not a lot) and find a one bedroom apartment a couple of blocks from the college. Neither of us had cars, and I didn't have a driver's license, but that was ok, since we could get anywhere with our feet and buses.

We figured that, since we had lived together in one bedroom before with no loss of life or limb, that we could do it again, at least until we could afford a two bedroom apartment. A couple of months later I took a second job at the corporate offices of a bank, where I worked with Risa on weekends.

Word of advice: no matter how close you are to your bestest friend in the whole wide world, do not share a one bedroom apartment just after high school while you are working together. We started to go our separate paths, and it made for a very difficult few months. She was irritated by me and I didn't see it. It very nearly broke us apart.

After about four or five months, we gave up the apartment. She moved back in with her folks. I wasn't ready to go back home, though, because I felt that, if I did, I was a failure, though my parents were ready to take me back in a heartbeat. So I gave myself a month to find a new place/room-mate and rented a room from the Lanes' next-door neighbors, whose last name escapes me at the moment, but whose first names are Carol and Michael. They had a son, Jonathon, for whom I had babysat when Risa wasn't available, so I knew the family. For $50/month I would rent a room and help with Jonathon when I wasn't at work and they were out. It was really nice, and I think it was good for my relationship with Risa. We still worked together on the weekends (and, later, full time during the graveyard shift), we still saw each other frequently, but we weren't constantly in the other's face.

Of course, I didn't look too hard for a new room-mate, because all of my other friends were happy in their current situations and I was very leery of living with someone I didn't know. At the end of the month I moved back in with my folks and took buses from Simi Valley to Granada Hills or Northridge every blessed day. And, eventually, our friendship grew strong again, stronger than ever.

And here it is, eighteen years ago to the month that we met, and I love her more than ever. We've seen each other through broken hearts and late night calls. She took me in for a weekend after one of the most devestating weeks of my life and helped me through it. I fully plan on her being my maid of honor at my wedding, should that day ever happen. I was one of her proud bridemaids at a gorgeous wedding in which she married a terrific man. She's pregnant with a child I'll be proud to call my niece or nephew. I'm flying out to visit Risa, Joe and their little fledgling this Friday for the weekend and I'm counting the days (three).

Happy Birthday, Risa. I love ya, hon.

Tune into...

Sorry, none for today. It's an all Risa entry.