When I was a little girl I lived in a great neighborhood with lots of kids my age.  I was a true tomboy and played mostly with the boys of our neighborhood.  The girls were okay, but their girlie games bored me pretty quick.  I liked sports!  My first best friend in life was Davy.  He lived at the end of the circle and he was a born athlete.  I was a good athlete, but not like Davy.  Davy was also a true friend.  He loved his sports, but he loved me more.  He was very competitive, but he wanted me to do well too.  Perhaps it helped that in organized sports we didn’t compete against each other, since he was a boy and I a girl, but I think it was more than that.  In our neighborhood we played a lot of kickball and whiffleball, but  Davy’s strongest sports were swimming and track. 

We both joined the swim team when we were quite young (maybe 6?).  Davy won ribbons and medals and trophies right from the start.   He was proud, but never obnoxious.  I loved to swim and I did okay.  I remember moving from the pre-team to a color team.  I don’t remember the colors, but I do know the gold team was at the top and I was thrilled to be on a colored team.  I remember the first (and only) time I won a race.  Davy met me at the edge of the pool.  He was so excited!  He grabbed my hand and took me to the place to get my ribbon.  He told his mom.  Unfortunately, I didn’t last long on the swim team.  I got the chicken pox and refused to be seen in a swim suit.  By the time the pox wore off, that was the end of the season and I never went back.  Dumb pride, but I did learn to swim well and I’ve never been afraid in the water.  It’s certainly serving me well now.

Then there was track.  Davy was a fast runner.  I remember him taking me to the top of our street, him taking my hand, and running down the street, dragging me behind.  He had this idea that I would learn to run faster this way.  He always wanted me to do better.  I never was a good runner (we did try!), but I did become a pretty good high jumper.  My father made me a high jump and I practiced for hours in the front yard.  One year for our elementary school field day I won the high jump, but I scraped open a nasty scab on my elbow while competing and was bleeding.  Davy was thrilled!  I remember him taking me to his mom, “Mommy, she won the high jump and she’s BLEEDING!”  Davy loved the goriness of it all.  What a thrill ~ to win while bleeding and have Davy proud! 

Years later we moved away, but would go visit family a few times a year.  I tried to visit Davy when I could.  He was growing up, but there was a sameness about him.  White-blond, straight hair, an infectious ear-to-ear smile, a tendency toward trouble (nothing serious that I know of), and a lot of athletic awards.  I would always ask to see them.  Each time he would take me to his room and show me.  His room was packed with trophies, medals, and awards.  He would show me, almost looking embarrassed and say, “I had to pack up a bunch.  There’s no room.  They’re in  boxes in the attic.”  He never bragged.  Davy was pure. 

I learned a lot from Davy ~ how to play sports, how to compete and be friends at the same time, how to look out for one another, how to be proud of one’s accomplishments without bragging, how to be proud of someone else’s accomplishments and brag a little, how to love, how to be loyal, and how to be tough and soft at the same time.

That’s what I was thinking about in the pool the other day.


6 Responses

  1. Hmmmmmm…..so now I know a little bit more about the person a certain doll was named after.
    But I always thought that doll was a little freaky.

  2. What a great friend and great memories. Amazing how much you can learn from one so young (and being so young at the time yourself). I would still like to learn how to be competitive and still be friends with someone.

  3. Actually, the doll’s name is Doug. Doug is named after a boy who lived across the street. He was 2 years younger than me and I guess when I met my doll I thought all babies were named Doug, because Doug the boy was a baby at the time, so I named my baby Doug. Oh, the rigid thinking of a little child!

  4. Doug or Davy….. the doll can give anyone nightmares! LOL!

  5. Davy sounds like such a great and warm memory to have! It’s so nice when someone can affect your life so much without even knowing they did so.

    Do you ever wonder about where Davy is now?

  6. I can visulaize you as a high jumper. Lovely post.

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