CREDOS : Peas in a pod — III

Such a chauvinist, my dad, but Pam adored him. When he was sick with leukemia, she was my only friend to stay in touch with him and one of my few friends to attend his funeral.

In our three decades of friendship, we’ve had few arguments and only one real fight. It involved a man, of course. Pam was angry because I had cancelled our evening plans in favour of a last-minute date. I thought she was being unreasonable because we were on vacation at the time and it’s not like I could ever see this guy again. Didn’t matter, she said. I was accused of breaking our cardinal commandment crossing all borders and international datelines: thou shalt never dumpeth a friend for a date.

This fight was particularly memorable and not just because it was our most heated. We happened to be flinging insults and accusations while standing in the middle of a boulevard in downtown Auckland, New Zealand. Today I recall a surreal scene in which our angry voices echoed throughout streets that were empty because it was a quiet Sunday afternoon when all the shops were closed and pedestrians gone. One would have never guessed we were friends, let alone best friends.

But as will any friendship of substance, we survived that bump in the road.

Over the years we’ve pursued separate friends, relationships, hobbies and careers. Always though, we’ve remained a fixture in each other’s lives. Pam is analytical, kindhearted and impetuous. —