when i was twenty five i shopped around for a therapist for all that ails a gal in her quarter life crisis. anxiety, depression, panic attacks, a touch of the eating disorder.

me at twenty five. fifteen pounds lighter. damn, if i knew now what i didn’t know then, i would have ate more candy, spent my money on pretty dresses and drinks for cute boys, and wouldn’t have bothered with therapy, waxing kits or underwire bras.
so i tried a gestalt therapist. interviewed a freudian. did one session with a cognitive psychotherapist. even got my chakras manifested. nothing clicked. nothing seemed particularly helpful.
when i went to a “blended” psychotherapist i remember he asked me a half dozen questions. one of them was “who is your best friend?” i said, well, it’s actually two people. they’re married to each other and i can’t really separate them. not that i want to. . . and they’re seventy-ish and they’re retired and well they’re like parents to me. dick and vivian eastman. he taught me english in college.”
the therapist put down pad and pen and stared at me in that woeful, soulful, doleful sort of way that therapists are wont to.
“don’t you think it’s a sign of a . . . problem . . . that you consider your best friends a couple who separated by so many years from your peers and . . .”
he didn’t get the whole question out before i moved on. and i never found that perfect therapist. and, sadly, both dick and vivian passed on a few years ago. i felt honored that they considered me a friend.
i find it strange that american culture assumes you are friends with people who are roughly your own age. your own grade. and i have reached an age at which i am honored particularly by young than me people who consider me their friend.
this weekend i went to visit my facebook friend taylor jordan. she is not even twenty years old and all the adjectives apply: beautiful, enthusiastic, energetic, fun! i am not her best friend but i am included in the circle of people she counts as that word.

i think my facebook friend taylor jordan (on the left) would consider taylor lufkin (on the right) her best friend! they are both in college–he’s going to be a writer, she’s going to teach. this is our wonderful future and i’m so happy for these two!
taylor was the eighty-fifth facebook friend i visited last year. she is the granddaughter of my friend suzanne’s husband. although i had often interacted with her in the context of seeing my friend suzanne, i had never really spent time with taylor as a friend unto herself. last year, i went to her school in wisconsin to visit and discovered a way nuanced, intelligent, funny galpal. this year, i went to her school in central illinois. next week, she is going to join a sorority, but first there’s an initiation rite that i tried to help her with. . . uh, well, maybe i’m not the friend you want at your side when you do that. . .
September 4th, 2012 at 10:14 pm
Arlynn, I think you still look 25 as your photos indicates. You always look great. I sounds like you’re having a blast…I’m so happy for you. You need this break…..God Speed….
Arlene
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September 4th, 2012 at 10:27 pm
hey, arlene, so happy to hear from you! happy labor day to you and your family! and special hugs to johnny!
September 6th, 2012 at 3:52 pm
Hey Arlynn I always KNEW you were a genius!
September 6th, 2012 at 3:57 pm
UM”’two all beef patty special sauce lettuce cheese pickles unions on a sesame bun””hmmmmmm..
September 10th, 2012 at 3:58 pm
It’s the spirit inside of the body that you’re friends with, not the physical shell they inhabit (Most of my friends are in their 70’s).
The real problem with the shrink industry is that most of the people that work in the profession got into it to figure out what was wrong with them. I’m in the healthcare adminsitration business and mental health providers are among the most egregious in terms of disciplinary problems that I sort through.
October 25th, 2012 at 9:09 pm
To all: Did we forget what she did for Vietnam? Yes, nothing, they were criminals in her eyes. Check out what Barbara Walters has to say and others.