More Than A Friend

Back in the 40’s we had neighbors across the street from us on Glenwood Avenue who also came down to the shore for the summer months. They became good friends with our family. There names were Walt and Betty Timer. Walt had retired from the railroad. They would spend their time during the days sitting on the porch and enjoying a beer or cocktail around happy hour. They would invite my parents over to join them.

I guess I was around ten years old in the summer of 1949 when their son and his wife and three grandchildren started coming down for the summer. They stayed in an apartment above Walt and Betty. The kids were all girls, Mae 14, June 12, and Virginia 10 years old.

Gee, Virginia was the same age as me. We soon became good friends. In our younger years, we played the kids games with her sisters and my two younger brothers Bill and Jimmy and my sister Ann. Checkers on the porch, card games, tag, hop scotch on the side walk, and dodge ball in the yards. We would play hide and go seek with the kids in the neighborhood too. It seems like every time we would hide, Virginia and I would hide in the same location together. Sometimes after the other kids could not find us and went home, we would still be sitting behind our garage talking. She was my best buddy.

As young kids we started to spend more summers together growing toward our teen years. We would climb on the next door neighbor’s roof or sit on the large tree limb next to my dad’s garage. We would spend time talking there and looking at the bright lights of the boardwalk or watch the stars on a dark night.

It seemed like we were sitting high in the sky and close to heaven. But in reality we were probably only 25 feet from the ground. Her father was a pilot and flew his small Cessna airplane down to the Cape May County Airport on weekends from New York. Some days he would circle low over our homes and dip his wings as to say hello. As kids we would jump up and down and wave to the plane. It was exciting.

In those days you went to the boardwalk with your family and were dressed up nice. Our family would see their family on the boards and would stop to talk. Virginia and I would exchange smiles and say hello and make plans for the next day. As teens we would walk to the beach or boardwalk and spend time together as friends. We were both a little shy. Alone on the boardwalk, we would walk together holding hands and go on some rides. One time we went on the Tunnel Of Love ride on those little boats. Into the ride we did exchange a few kisses but that was it. As we walked away we both laughed. We were still just friends .

Virginia had curly blond hair, blue eyes, a big smile and a cute little figure. She was a princess. For the next seven years we remained best of friends and couldn’t wait to see each other for the summers. It was as close to a romance you could get and still be buddies.

At the end of the summer of 1956, we were both 17 years old and just graduated from high school. She was so excited that she would be entering college that fall. I watched their family pack the car and the three girls said their goodbyes and piled into the back seat. Virginia smiled out the back window of the car and waved her arm out as they drove up Glenwood Avenue. That was the last time I would ever see Virginia again.

The summer was over and I was kind of lost in what I would do next. I was working as a dishwasher for Jack Bickel at the coffee shop in Jackson’s Drug Store on Pacific Avenue during the summer. I continued to work there. My grandmother Kate and I decided to stay a few months at our house. The months turned into winter then spring. We were the only house on the block that had lights on that winter. It was a long cold winter and the little oil heater in the living room did not put out much heat. There were no insulation in the walls and the draft moved our curtains. Our black and white television signal came from an antenna on the roof and it would fade away when the wind changed direction. If we were lucky we could get three stations from Philadelphia. There was no cable, ipods, internets, or blackberries then. When the picture faded she would stay up and read the Bible and I would say ‘good night grandma’ and go to bed. I was really looking forward to the summer and seeing my friends again. I had applied to college and was accepted for the fall session.

In June, Walt and Betty arrived first and unloaded their car. A few minutes later he walked across the street where my father and I were sitting on our porch to let us know the sad news. He blurted out, “ Virginia had died.“

She was heading back to college in upstate New York on a winter night and her car slid on ice and hit a tree. She was killed instantly. There was a long silence and disbelief. How could this be ? Life is not fair. I didn’t get a chance to say good bye, give her a hug, and tell her how much I would miss her. The summers would never be the same again. Her family did not return to Wildwood . A few years passed by and Walt and Betty sold the house and both died a few years later with broken hearts.

Today I still sit on my porch and look over to their house and think of those fun days growing up with the girls. It is an empty feeling. Never again will I be a kid. Their house has changed hands several times since. We are the only family now on our block who are the original owners and still spend our summers here.

Life is short and it is God’s will to determine when to take you. We all pass away at some date in time, but I wish God would have extended Virginia’s life here on earth. Heaven could have waited a little longer.

Photo of W. Glenwood Ave. taken from Virginia’s father’s Cessna airplane.