Family Friends

Growing up, I was surrounded by people my parents called "friends". Most of them had children around my same age, so they were "family friends".

To say they are an eclectic group would hardly cover it. They come from all over the world, from all sorts of backgrounds, and all served a different "purpose" in Mom/Dad's life. Like the gamut my friends run, there are some who Mom and Dad traveled with, some they partied with, some they played bridge with, others they enjoyed music with, some they prayed with. These folks make up the "tapestry" Father Peter referred to at Mom's funeral.

Even after Mom's death, several of these family friends keep in contact with me. I generally can expect, and send, Christmas cards and pictures on an annual basis. And, on occasion, one of them will pick up the phone and call me, just to check in, cry/laugh a little with me, and disappear back into their world until the next time.

These are the people who helped shape me into the person and writer I am today.

So, when I received the following email, it struck me as so, well, ME. I had to share it.

It came from one of Mom's best friends. One who is fun, funny, and loud.* She's the life of the party, just like Mom was. You can only imagine how an event could get out of hand when the two of them hit the room!

I hope you enjoy this heartwarming story as much as I did.....

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In 1986, Peter Davies was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from Northwestern University. On a hike through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed, so Peter approached it very carefully.

He got down on one knee, inspected the elephants foot, and found a large piece of wood deeply embedded in it. As carefully and as gently as he could, Peter worked the wood out with his knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot.

The elephant turned to face the man, and with a rather curious look on its face, stared at him for several tense moments. Peter stood frozen, thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned, and walked away.

Peter never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later, Peter was walking through the Chicago Zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to near where Peter and his son Cameron were standing.

The large bull elephant stared at Peter, lifted its front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times then trumpeted loudly, all the while staring at the man.

Remembering the encounter in 1986, Peter could not help wondering if this was the same elephant. Peter summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing, and made his way into the enclosure.

He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. The elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of Peter legs and slammed him against the railing, killing him instantly.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

This is for everyone who sends me those heart-warming b***s**t stories.

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Just in case you EVER wonder where my warped sense of humor and nasty case of sarcasm comes from...now you know. It's my parent's fault for having such awesome friends.

*In a good way, mind you.