Thursday, March 30, 2017

Thoughts of a Childhood Rival and Friend





My childhood nemesis died last week.  I stumbled upon a Facebook post of her obituary, and audibly gasped.  It felt like a gut-punch, with years of memories flooding my brain.  She was 47 when she died, and her obituary was short and did not include clues as to how she died.  It felt like a rough draft rather than a completed story, and I spent much of the day after I saw it wondering what happened to her and genuinely hoping that she is at peace.

Our story had the feel of a Hollywood movie; I was the awkward shy hard-working nerdy geek, and Vicky was the more exuberant fun talented charismatic charmer.  We met in elementary school and became friends, and adversaries.  I have often referred to her as my nemesis over the years, and I say that I loved her like a sister. The truth is that there is no one other than my sister who hurt me as much as she did, and in that way she had an indelible impact on my life.  


Vicky and I attended elementary and junior high school together, but the place that we spent the most time together was the swimming pool.  We were teammates on our club team for many years, and that is where she tormented me the most.  Vicky was much more talented than I was, but I was a harder worker.  She was the kid who would play around in practice and pull on my feet and skip laps…and then blow me out of the water in meets.  When we were 9 years old, I almost quit swimming because my coach so blatantly favored her.  But looking back there were probably coaches who favored me as well. I just knew I wasn’t as good as her.

We were opposites enough in the pool that we ended up swimming different events and didn’t compete as much in junior high, but then she tormented me socially. I remember birthday parties where Vicky would shun me.  I remember how she made fun of me for not drinking.  And like a scene from a movie, I remember the time in junior high that she loudly pointed out a pimple on my face, in front of the boy I had a crush on.  Fun times. 


We ended up going to different high schools and going our separate ways.  Vicky quit swimming and I lost track of her.  I ran into her once years ago and we talked for a few minutes and were friendly, but that was it.  Whereas I went off to college and moved away, she was living in the same neighborhood that we grew up in when she died.  Of course I don’t know the details that would fill-in the years, and success is not measured by the distance we travel.  I hope that she had a lot of fun and love and happiness over the years. 

In my Hollywood version of the story, she was the mean girl and I was the ugly duckling that turned into a swan.  But this story took place in the Midwest, not Hollywood.  Vicky definitely tormented me, but I probably tormented her back.  I hated her but I loved her too.  I’ve traveled far and had some good success, but that doesn’t make my life any better than someone who stayed close to home.  It just makes it different. 

We all have our stories.  Vicky was incredibly important to mine.  Whenever I tell my childhood story, Vicky is a part of it.  A part of my childhood died last week.  I hope that her life was full of the exuberant energy that she had as a kid. I hope that that sparkle continued to shine.  RIP, Vicky.


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