Misstropolis

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

by Maxine Effenson Chuck

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When my husband Bill proposed to me 17 years ago with my soon-to-be stepdaughter by his side, my response was, well, conditional. “As long as I can still have my Martha’s Vineyard weekends with Amy.”

This year, as Amy and I were clinking glasses to 22 years of our annual jaunts to the Vineyard over yet another pizza and beer dinner (she drank water, I drank the beer) – for which I make Amy walk 12 miles to offset the calories of one large Dairy Queen (for lunch) and three or four slices of pizza (for dinner) – I made a toast to another 20 years. “Why just 20 years?” she asked. “Don’t you think we’ll be doing this in 30 years?”

Maybe, but we probably won’t be walking the 12 miles.

Friends since we were 12 years old, Amy and I had already accumulated a treasure trove of shared highlights and lowlights as we muddled through adolescence and early adulthood. Not to minimize what we had as kids, but well over 30 years later, the fact that we are still the best of friends is something to commemorate, as we do annually. And each year, as time seems to move more quickly and we seem to have less of it to spend together, we are increasingly appreciative of our special weekend.

Our tradition began in a small inn in Oak Bluffs, in a miniscule, $70-a-night room with sagging twin beds and shared bathrooms. We were perfectly happy staying in this young, rowdy part of the island. More luxurious and gracious accommodations (still twin beds) at the Hob Knob Inn in Edgartown – the higher-end part of island – were for older people who made more than our $12,000/year salaries. Little did we know that not only would we graduate to these classier digs, but we would do so while keeping almost everything else the same – the DQ, the pizza and miles and miles of walking and talking.

This summer, as we walked along the streets of Oak Bluffs, we were struck by how things have changed. Our favorite pizza place, where we had long ago been able to get a large pizza on whole wheat crust for $11, is now more upscale, with pizza dinners averaging in the mid-$20 range. And the old phone booth, where I used to call Bill from while Amy patiently flipped through magazines, is gone. How old are we that we remember the pre-cell phone days?

Last summer, when my husband learned that he would need knee-replacement surgery – and quickly, before he was no longer able to walk around the block – I fretted. Of course I was worried about him; but I had something else to think about. “There are two possible dates,” Bill told me when he got home from his doctor’s appointment. “July 17th or July 24th.”

My mind raced. July 17th meant that he would miss our daughter’s visiting day at camp; the 24th meant that I would miss my weekend with Amy. So here was my dilemma – do I ask him if he can hold off a little longer so I can still go away, or do I bite my tongue, as most dutiful wives would do, and just call Amy and say, “You know, he can barely walk and…”

After weighing my options, I had to ask: “How about July 31st? Is that available?” It wasn’t, but being true to his promise on the day he proposed to me, he offered to delay the surgery until the end of the summer.

“Well, there’s always next, year,” Amy graciously conceded when I decided that I had to make the right choice.

But this year, with my husband back on his feet, Amy and I are back on track. We had a great weekend in July and are booked for next year. Just 320 days to go… and counting!