Left to Right: Me, age 7 – Jeff a.k.a. “Sunshine” – Rory-the-Dauntless – La Mirada, California
My Real Memoir
Hello Sunshine
This is a tale of two best friends, one full of sunshine, one full of clouds.
We’d moved to La Mirada a month into my 2nd grade year. And while our shiny new suburb might be “America’s Most Completely Planned,” my life was anything but. My only friend was a tiger-striped tabby. True, I had a goofy sense of humor and a wild imagination, but I mostly used them to amuse myself. Anyone who met me would have pegged me as an introvert. But at age seven, something instantly turned me into an extrovert. That something was Jeffrey (nickname “Sunshine”) Ward.
La Pluma Elementary school was full of strangers. Until class-clown extraordinaire Jeff, who’d never met a stranger and assumed everyone else felt the same, said, “Let’s be best friends!”
Not only did Jeff wipe away the last remaining cobwebs of my former shyness, he became my new template for how to do school. Both for good (other kids loved my stories and antics!) and for evil (the teacher didn’t). I spent a lot of time in the “learning not to interrupt” corner, and under the teacher’s desk (that was a thing in those days).
With Jeff, I acquired a second family: Paul, his jazz-loving optometrist dad; Roberta “Bert,” his suburban-bohemian mom, who treated us as intellectual equals (which I loved); and Jeff’s older brother and younger sister. Sleepovers and adventures ensued!
Hello Cloudy
A short time later, I met a boy at the other end of the block–and mood spectrum. Rory was frequently mistaken for Jerry Mathers (Leave It to Beaver). But in many ways, he was the opposite of the Beaver and Jeff. He could have been nicknamed “Cloudy.” Rory was good-hearted, but shy and hesitant. When he became flustered, he’d sometimes stutter and then become even more flustered (I based the young hero B’frona in The Wishing Map on him). But there was something in him that filled in the other missing part of me and so, along with Jeff, he completed our fearsome threesome.
But Rory’s family was a different story. His stepfather Donald rarely smiled and mysteriously came and went. And his mother Pat, although young and pretty, seemed perpetually anxious to please her husband. When I slept over at Rory’s house, she’d tuck us in wearing a low-cut negligee (my first lesson in female anatomy), but it was for Donald, not us. Still, she was kind and patient–unlike Rory’s father. Rory often couldn’t come out to play because, like Cinderella, he was cleaning his half-sisters’ room (sweet girls and not to be blamed). Yet, for all his labors Rory rarely received any allowance. Only years later did I learn that he’d been horribly abused by the man he now calls “the Monster,” a serial adulterer and narcissist.
So Thank You…
…Jeff and Rory, for the sunshine and the clouds. Jeff, you freed the daylight in me. And Rory, you taught me how to endure the darkness (we still had a good time, didn’t we?) and never give up. By the way, I’m ashamed to admit that, for a time, I called Rory my “second” best friend–juvenile thoughtlessness at its worst. I had two best friends, and loved them equally…
And I still do.
To read My Real Memoir from the start, click here. To read the next episode, click here.
Poignant piece and a good read.
Thank you, Liz.
I enjoyed this post very much Mitch. I have always said we can have more than one best friend.
We can indeed, Mags.
Another post that requires a “Love” button. ❤️❤️
Aw, thank you, Gail. 🧡
I still have one best friend from school since we were seven! It’s only recently on a Facebook group we have had vague glimpses of whatever happened to others from our class.
Yes! Facebook has reconnected a LOT of disconnected friends.
Growing up, we thought we were just having fun with our friends (in between the little spats, that is). Little did we know how much they’d teach us, how they were helping form us.
A wise insight, Nancy.
I love it!!! You were a dashing young fella with two awesome best friends.
Aw, thank you, Christina.
I’m sure they were both grateful to have you as friends, too.
Thanks, Andrew.
You’re welcome, Mitch.
You were The Best Friend of Sunshine and Clouds.
;>) Exactly, Pamela.
To have a good friend, you have to be a good friend. Apparently, you were! 🙂
🧡
Wonderful childhood reveries, memories, meditations on that formative time way back when. Enjoyed this passage very much.
Thank you so much, Tom.
Wonderful piece, Mitch! 👏
Thank you, T❣
Always, a pleasure.
What a beautiful story of childhood friendships! Thank you for sharing it, Mitch!
My pleasure, Jill❣
This is a beautiful and tender memory piece. There’s a real warmth in how it contrasts “sunshine” and “clouds,” not as judgment, but as shaping influences in childhood. The honesty about friendship, growth, and even regret adds depth, especially the reflection on how both boys formed different but important parts of your life. It’s a powerful reminder that our earliest relationships often leave lasting fingerprints on who we become.
Thank you so much, Steps (may I ask your name?).
Mervin
Good to meet you, Mervin!
Same here Mitch.
oh, what a great look back, the memories are priceless
This struck me – never met a stranger. Maybe we could try that more often?
Amen, Iba.
Love the pictures! I have an entire wall of images like that from my parents’ generation. It makes them feel closer somehow! And I also had a first and second best friend in my youth LOL
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Great story–with sunny and cloudy moments. 🙂 Question–did you send this piece to your two friends, Sunny and Cloudy? If so, what did they think? (Don’t feel pressured to answer–I am just curious. 🙂 ) God bless you Mitch!
They both read an earlier version of it, and responded warmly. And God bless you, Katie!
Nice 🙂
What a beautiful, tender piece. I love how you honor both friends—the sunshine and the clouds—and how each shaped a different part of who you became. The contrast between Jeff’s bright, effortless extroversion and Rory’s quiet resilience makes the story even richer. Your honesty about childhood blind spots, and your gratitude looking back, gives the whole piece a gentle emotional weight. Thanks for sharing such a heartfelt slice of your real memoir.
My privilege, Michael, and thank you for your kind comments.
Much deserved. Blessings.
Thanks, Michael.
Love it. I suspect every storyteller in the world has spent time in the “do not interrupt corner.”
;>) Likely so.
Earlier this year, I traced a good friend who moved away frim out town whrn he was about ten..I wrnt to stay with him soon sfter, but then distance meant that we looked for nearb friends. Baggy Boyle is now a university professor. After sixty years, we met up in a pub in South London. It was if we had not been apart! Time past quickly as did our the content in our beer glasses. Oh…. the memories!!!!!
How wonderful, Geoff❣
Mitch, this was a beautiful story. The sunshine and the clouds of childhood often travel together, and you captured both with remarkable honesty. Your words painted a picture not just of two friends, but of an entire season of life that many of us remember with affection and longing. I have come to treasure people who share pieces of their lives so openly, because in their stories I often rediscover pieces of my own. Thank you for taking us back to a simpler time and reminding us that the friendships that shape us never truly leave us.
My privilege, Ben, and thank you for your heartfelt reflection.
do you like domestic violence is child abuse?
Domestic violence can include child abuse, yes, Rudy. It can also take other forms.
how
Oh, the joy of childhood friends. Thanks for this story. I still stay in touch with many of my high school friends. Unfortunately, Jeff F. and Tommy H. and James are all lost in moves from the area or death. I pray for them still and thank God for each.
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That’s a beautiful, heartfelt story. My childhood friends and our stories are clear as a bell, thank goodness. Yes, there is sunshine and clouds. Some of the clouds I have never figured out.
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Great memories.
Thank you, Pete.
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Great story, Mitch, our early friends help us to become who we are. Blessings!
They certainly do, Peggy. And blessings to you, dear friend!
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