If you know me, have met me, or stared at me from afar, you probably know that I have a healthy image of self. You may have interpreted it otherwise (common phrase: Too cool for school) the first time we met, but over time, I won you over with my adorable anecdotes and $2,000 smile (understatement). With that said, you probably also know that there is one area in which I become rather sheepish, self-doubting/loathing, and embarrassed. That area, of course, being my relationship with my dear friend Cassie. Now, don't get me wrong, I love her (not that kind of love, see the sensitivity of the subject??).
Background Information:
When two girls go off to college at age 18 and live on the same floor of the dorms, we call them neighbors. When those same two girls move into their first apartment the next year, we call them roommates. And so that title continues for their years during college. During this time, roommates are a source of laughter, subject of pranks, means to meeting boys, and TV buddies. The refrigerator is often filled with 6 jugs of milk, all carefully initialed in permanent marker (JV, CC, RS, CH, LH, LC, CH2, RB, ET, KB, SH, you get the point). They're on their own, or so they think, thanks mom and dad for the rent check. Eventually, graduation day comes and quickly the 6 jugs of milk become one and a quart of Soy. Those same two girls are now looking for their next phase of living, which usually involves a townhome, condo, duplex and possibly elderly friend's basement. At first, the excitement of not having to move out at the end of the semester is intoxicating. They buy picture frames and spice cabinets, they begin their nesting, we call them best friends. However, at a not quite as distinguishable point, this relationship changes one more time. Somehow, the "Have a good day" farewell each morning turns into, "Time to make the donuts," or "Another day, another dollar," and eventually. . . silence. Not the kind of silence that is used as a punishment, but the kind that means "I know I'll see you later." Also during this time, the plans of traveling the world with your precious husband is more realistically planned with the other girl. You travel, go to family reunions, talk to one another's family members on the phone, fold eachother's laundry, fill out the other's applications, pack both of you a lunch, buy joint kitchen items, and purchase a Costco membership together. The term "best friend," is no longer appropriate, you have somehow changed into the most dreaded of titles for a single girl in her mid-late 20s . . . partners. Eek.
On a cruise this summer with my family, my own mother panicked in her introduction of Cassie. "Um, this is Cassie, Chelsey's roommate, no, friend, um. . ." So, you may see why our relationship is a bit of a sore spot. Yesterday, Cassie brought to my attention an article in the BYU Alumni Magazine, of which we receive 2 copies, thank you very much. If you are interested in reading the whole article, it's in this month's edition in which there is a terrifying photo of Cosmo in business-casual on the cover. The article is entitled, "THE MIGHTY GIFTS OF BEVERLEY AND RAMONA." Please read the following excerpt and look at the adjoining photo to get an idea as to why both Cassie and I were horrified about the story of two ladies who have helped over 100 "daughters" get a BYU education.
Two frugal friends have blessed the lives of many BYU “daughters.”
Beverley Nalder (BS ’52) admits that, at first, she wasn’t too fond of Ramona Morris (’81). “She was so organized—something I wasn’t,” says Nalder, describing how she met Morris four decades ago on a river raft trip. “But I got over it.” By the end of the excursion, the two had become friends. They later became roommates and eventually bought a home together.
“As the years have gone by, we have sort of met in the middle,” Nalder says. “Her friendship has been the dearest blessing in my life.”
The companionship has blessed more lives than two. Neither woman has ever married or had children, but together they have scrimped and saved to help more than 100 “daughters” gain an education at BYU.
“We never travel first class,” says Nalder, explaining how she, a retired BYU professor and counselor, and Morris, a retired high school counselor, manage to fund several scholarships each year. “We keep our cars a long time, and we make do with the same old television by having a converter box rather than buying a new television. We even delay repairing a light in the kitchen if we can use the money a better way.”
“We take cruises,” Morris adds, “but we always get inside staterooms without windows. I suppose we could have a cabin with a window and a balcony, but the extra money could be used for others. Besides, we figure we would only be in the room for sleeping.”
After some discussion, it was decided that I am Beverly (right) and Cassie is Ramona (left).
