The Most Wonderful Woman in the World.

Fall has come to New York and we're deep into this most gorgeous time of year. The colors are glorious, the leaves are thick on the ground, and the air is rich with that toasty smell of damp, crusty foliage. Wonderful!

More wonderful still is that I am sharing this beautiful season with my best friend of 32 years, Wendy, who has travelled over from Sydney to spend 5 fabulous weeks with me. (Now seems like a good time to assure you all that we met when we were children...more or less...)

Last night, as we were taking my dog, Dixon, for a walk around town, Wendy said to me "if we met now, do you think we would still be friends?" The answer is a resounding "Yes!" So this post is a tribute to Wendy, the most wonderful woman in the world.

Wendy and I met on a beach in 1976. I was at a camp and she was on vacation with another girlfriend. I noticed Wendy speaking with a young man from our camp who was, at that time, considered very handsome but rather arrogant and egotistical; the biggest impact his success with the opposite sex had made was in his own mind, though his general appeal was widely acknowledged. Both Wendy and the girl she was vacationing with apparently knew this young man via other people, and it was sheer coincidence that she had encountered him on the beach. After a short conversation, however, he wandered away, leaving Wendy more or less stranded in the middle of a large group of people she didn't know with no-one to talk to. She wandered off awkwardly and took up a position by herself on the sand; the girlfriend she had arrived with also apparently having evaporated. For reasons of my own, I knew what it was to feel alone in a crowd and, having been brought up a proactive kind of girl, I went up to Wendy and introduced myself.

Was it an immediate synergy of souls? Nope. Did we have a lot in common? Not really. But we were polite and friendly, we chatted, we laughed over a few things, and we made ourselves 'socially available'. This conversation led to dinner together back at the campsite one evening, then phone numbers exchanged and phone calls made. From here we graduated to get-togethers in each other's homes when summer was over, a sharing of thoughts, a commitment to each other's well being, and a loyal bond that grew into 32 years of the most nurturing friendship I have ever known. When her boyfriend dumped her, I was there; when my mother (and later on my father) died, she was there; when she had her babies, I was there; when my husband and I bought our first home, Wendy was there - with her check book. When Wendy's marriage broke down, I was there - on the end of the phone for an hour or more every day and then with a plane ticket to NY and an open door for as long as she wanted. When living on the other side of the world gets too hard, Wendy is here - spending her vacations, her long service leave, and more time than she realistically has to spare, looking after me and simply helping me to travel successfully through life with fewer bruises than I would otherwise have. As we age, so we realize that we will face bigger and bigger challenges, and so we discuss things like living wills, power of attorney, euthanasia, and who we want to have 'grandma's good tea set' when we finally kick on. More to the point, we have the sorts of conversations only best friends have; "If I am ever incapacitated and in hospital and can't talk, promise me you'll regularly pluck out the hairs that grow out of that mole on my chin..." "Can't I just get it electrolysized?" "Well, ok - just make sure *something* gets done." "You could always get it done now of course..." "Hmmm...maybe I will..."

Wendy and I are very different in nature. I am analytical; she is emotional. I want to discuss politics; she wants to read cook books. I want to grow roses; she wants to grow herbs. I cook complicated French cuisine with complex tastes and subtle, layered flavors; Wendy makes enormous, earthy Italian dishes you need your hands to eat and which make you glad to be alive. Wendy loves to shop for clothes, while I have a passion for collecting unset diamonds. Wendy loves the pre-Raphaelite school of art; I am all about the abstract artists - Kandinsky, Rothko, Pollock. And Wendy adores emotional, intense classical music; I would rather eat glass. In many ways we're about as different as two people can be.

And yet despite all our differences, we both believe in God, we both believe in the responsibility of 'those with' to share with 'those without'. We both believe all people are equal, and we both believe in 'using our words, not our fists' - both in relationships and in international politics. We both strive to tell the truth, to be responsible, to make a positive impact and to leave a place better than we found it. We believe in being polite, paying our own way, and in making ourselves available to those we love. We both believe laughter is the best medicine, that points of view different to our own are not necessarily wrong and should be listened to, that we all could be better than we are, and that manners are the oil in the complicated machinery of life. And we both value loyalty and trustworthiness, and believe that all good relationships start with those things.

Perhaps if we had met now, it would have taken us longer to be friends, to have found where each other fit into our lives and to see the value in each other. But I believe we would have ended in the same place, valuing each other - similar yet different - passing time together, a cup of coffee in hand, our feet tucked up on the sofa with laughter and love in the air.

I think I still would have recognized the most wonderful woman in the world.

Yours Awash with Blessings,

K.E. Stapylton