The inside jokes. The pedicures. The cocktails. The laughter. There’s just nothing as soul-soothing as time with girlfriends.
One of my most treasured groups of girlfriends is indeed from college. We spent a LOT of time together and were truly a family. Dancing until all hours of the night? Check. Sobbing over boys? Check. Life changing “a-ha” conversations? Check. We had it all. Birthdays, holidays, mini-vacations. Check, check and check.
We were, for sure, not one and the same. We had our varying interests. Science. Art. Parties. But amongst other things, at our core and in our hearts we had our Judaism in common. We didn’t all practice our religion in the exact same way. But it was close enough, similar enough, to feel safe. Comfortable. Easy.
I’m still in touch with my college girlfriends although they are in California and I’m here in the Midwest. Thank goodness for Facebook, right? Even though their lives are busy, their friendships are maintained. Prospective boyfriends are checked out. Husbands are approved of. And children are loved.
A few years ago, we all got together during an unfortunately-few-and-far-between visit to California. The kids were playing and the
adults were…being…because that’s what’s best about the bestest of friends, you can just be. Recently I was reminiscing about that trip and lamenting the fact that my kids won’t have the experience of growing up alongside my girlfriends’ kids. Building memories of holidays and celebrations, much like we had together. When we were young. Although, I’m not 100% sure if that wish was more for my kids or for myself.
In reality, having family-like friendships is on my list of wants for all of us. As is having a strong Jewish community. For many, that community comes “built in” if they settle where they were raised. For those of us who transplant, it just isn’t so.
It’s hard making and maintaining friendships as an adult. Like a real adult. Not the “adults” that we thought we were when we lived in dorms, ate in cafeterias and had some (or all) of our bills paid for by our parents. Lives, jobs, spouses, kids. They all take time and energy. Girl time has to be carved out. Hence Book Clubs, Scrappin’ Nights and Girls Nights Out. But first you have to find the girlfriends!
Meeting people in the Midwest is…interesting. The term Minnesota Nice has taken a beating here and there. I have heard it said that Minnesotans are so nice, they’ll show you the way anywhere- except to their own home. Ba-dum-bum. My take on it is that Minnesotans are oh-so-very settled. As we brave another Winter, one of my native Minnesotan girlfriends wonders, “what were my ancestors thinking?” Too cold, drawn out Winters aside, long-term Minnesotans have had their groups of friends for a long time, too. That doesn’t always leave room for new relationships, new friendships. But sometimes it does. I have met some amazing people and formed incredible friendships in Minnesota. Interestingly enough though, not one of my heart-and-soul friends here are Jewish.
Isn’t that just plain odd? Judaism is such a huge part of my identity and of my life, but not of my community. I used to be pretty solid in my belief that interfaith friendships could only go “so far.” I had had the “OMG! You’re Jewish, too?!” phenomenon and thought it was the only way to do friendship. In my younger days, I thought you could only get so close to someone of a different religion or someone who holds different political views than you do. And then there’s a gap. A stop. A limit.
Today I see things oh-so-very differently. The first family that Jason and I became close with in Minnesota are Christian. And Republicans! (I know!) We quite literally talk nonstop, learning about and from each other. Politics, religion, parenting– No stops. No gaps. No limits. In the early years of our friendship they celebrated Hanukkah with us. And (perhaps brilliantly) suggested that dreidel would make a great drinking game. They invited us to a faux-Christmas dinner. And told us that it was “tradition” to go sledding naked afterward. No, we didn’t fall for it. Thanks for asking, though. We made the kind of bond that I had previously thought could only be bound by similarities. But this time, it was bound by differences.
Today one of our closest family friends are also Christian. They are spiritually and foundationally tied to their faith.
And are open and upfront about what’s inside their hearts. It’s not uncommon for one of our kids to pick up a religious children’s book at their house and ask to read it. Not a single adult skips a beat. We work together to explain what we can in an age-appropriate manner. We might burst out laughing at the irony of the situation, but none of us feel awkward or threatened by the situation.
Close friendships require peer-into-your heart dialogue. I think it’s odd and fascinating and interesting that for me, these conversations have been more comfortable and frequent with people of different faiths. Perhaps we take things from an apples-to-oranges perspective. As in too different to compare. Too different to judge.
Now does it surprise me that we haven’t met anyone in Minnesota (yet) who does Judaism quite like we do? Reform-ish. Totally and completely over-the-top tied to holidays. But at the same time more than just a tad traditional? No, of course not. But it does make me pause and wonder how those of us who identify ourselves within the same organized religion but perhaps practice differently or identify with a different type or sect, how do we approach each other? Apples to oranges or too similar to be so different? Now I know that we can’t group people together or make assumptions. But still, in general, how do we do things? And in that doing, what messages are we sending to our kids?
In my heart-of-hearts I want us to have the best of both worlds: different and similar. Some relationships that require and allow for questions and learning. And others that allow for the feeling of one and the same. All-the-while breaking through the Minnesota Nice factor. Having all of that is possible, right?