You Just Know

So, my best friend in the whole world since the fifth grade, Susan, e-mailed me a what-do-I-do question.


Susan lives in Burbank, so we obviously don't get to see each other as much as we used to, but we still talk all the time online.

She asked if she should call out sick from work March 24, because Duran Duran is doing a mini concert at Jimmy Kimmel and she has to go, right?

My response: of course she should call out sick. What would her innner 12-year-old think if she went to work when Duran Duran is within spitting distance?

Could she no longer discern right from wrong?

Our priorities were so clear in eighth grade - the height of our love affair with our version of the Beatles.

What happened? When did having fun stop being the most important thing? Or even close to important at all?

Could you imagine, thinking to yourself before accepting a job offer, but will I have fun every day?

That's the way it should be.

In eighth grade, because it was before cell phones and whatever else, we used to write notes about how amazing our lives would be when we were adults (at 12 that meant 20; what does it mean at 40?) and pass them to each other in class. Our biggest fear was a teacher would intercept a note and read it out loud.

To let non-BFFs know one's deepest, hidden dreams and desires is a fate worse than death for a pre-teen!

Now, we sit in our respective offices, e-mailing each other about our day and planning for when things are how we want them to be.

Not a whole lot has changed, really.

Except then our whole lives were basically viewed through the safely distant goal of one day marrying our favorite Duran.

Fortunately, we each had a different favorite, so there were no fights over who would marry whom.

Poor Andy - no one wanted him. He was the least cool Duran.

It's a gift to have a best friend from as far back as fifth grade.

We all have an inner child whose hurts, failures, whatever, continue to affect what we bring into our lives into adulthood.

Susan knows my inner child personally. When something happens that echoes a familiar pattern, she can remember the seed that planted it. With all this history, you understand each other. You don't have to explain so much.

You just know.