She’s seen her best friend through dozens of broken relationships. In May 2003 she’ll be her maid of honor.
At 30, the women believe they’ll always be best friends. “If I had to take care of her someday, I would,” says the bride-to-be.
In another four decades, they really could end up caring for each other, maybe even under the same roof.
Empty nests, divorce, death and geography are among the reasons more older folks are counting on lifelong friends for companionship, support, nurturing and shared living.
Divorcees Margery Carlson, 78, and Sally Smoot, 63, have been sharing a home for 20 years, the last 18 in a four-bedroom house in Solana Beach. They’ve been friends since they met at work 23 years ago.
“After my [second] divorce,” Smoot says, “I would go to the park and think, even the birds have someone.”
The two spent so much time on the phone with each other, they decided to become roommates. Now, says Smoot, who still works as a payroll specialist, “Margery and I have lasted longer than both of my marriages.”
It’s nice to know there’s someone in the house, especially at night, Carlson says. It’s nice, too, splitting expenses, including such luxuries as a housekeeper and gardener.
Divorcee Betty Kierulff, 70, and her single friend, Mary Ann Oberle, 59, have also shared a home for two decades. They rented an apartment when the last of Kierulff’s five kids left home. The setup worked so well that they moved into a house together when the yearlong lease was up.
Now, in their third house, a four-bedroom in San Diego, the roommates say they feel like sisters.
Kierulff’s 44-year-old son has moved in with his mom and “Aunt” Mary Ann, who thinks of her roommate’s children as her own. And Carlson’s son, the youngest of three children, has temporarily moved in with her and Smoot.
Friendship families don’t stop at these two front doors. The four women belong to a much larger circle of friends who still call themselves “girls.”
They meet regularly for card games and dining, and even travel together. They depend on each other, keep each other hopping, and share their laughter and zest for life.
“You need somebody as your sounding board,” Smoot says.
The “girls” are not exaggerating when they say they can finish each other’s sentences.
Widow Polly Gouin, 84, who lives alone and still drives, is an enthusiastic member of the group. She and Carlson have known each other for 36 years. “When we were younger,” Polly says, “we never thought about being alone one day.”
Carlson was married 38 years and Gouin, 45. “The men die off, but we don’t move,” Gouin says.
And given the choice, the women agree, they’d much rather count on each other than feel like they’re a burden to their children. “I had my mother all her life and promised myself I wouldn’t do that to my kids,” Gouin says.
The friend network has shared births, deaths, teenagers and divorces, the best days of their lives and the worst.
Smoot was there for Carlson’s hip-replacement surgery; Carlson was there for Smoot’s knee and gallbladder operations.
Similarly, Oberle sat with Kierulff’s children when she underwent lung surgery. “She was there when my mom passed away, and I was there when her parents passed away,” Kierulff says.
Despite the inevitable aches and pains of aging, the women’s schedules are hectic. They’re so busy working, “doing lunch” or volunteering, it’s difficult to catch anyone at home.
A mother of three, Gouin says, “Our kids all think we’re sitting home waiting for them to call.” She boasts that when she was 74, she went parasailing at Lake George in New York. At 83, she cruised to the Azores to visit her grandparents’ birthplace.
Gouin and the other women point out that, in many respects, friends are easier than family. Friends tend to be more considerate, more thoughtful and more tolerant of each other.
Even so, the women say, lifetime relationships take some work. “You have to be a friend to have a friend; you have to reach out,” Gouin says. “If you sit home and wait for someone to call, you will be home alone forever.”
Kierulff points out there are always things about someone that bug someone else. “You need to look beyond those things to the good qualities.”
Gouin sinks into an easy chair in Carlson’s house, petting her friend’s two dachshunds. “There’s nothing like an old friend,” she says. “An old friend is like an old hat. Comfortable.”