One last thought

By DONNA PACKER

It all started when I heard Mrs. Petree on her front porch holler “Paulus, Kenneth Ray, Patsy, Catfish and Beverly Ann, come to dinner.” (Catfish’s name is Gary and my first boyfriend.) I grew up in two neighborhoods in Dallas with lots of kids I made friends with. My next-door neighbor had five children my brother and I played with and we still keep in touch though we are now all scattered. That experience at an early age made me realize how I was going to need friends forever (a good name for a song) in all the many places I have lived in Texas , such as Brownwood, Pasadena, McGregor, back to Dallas for 15 years, and now Pittsburg. Right after Steve and I married, he worked for a company that sold family Bibles. For three summers, between his seminary semesters, we lived in Missouri, North Carolina, and Kentucky. Nearly all those places were brand new to me. I had to find friends to survive. I wasn’t particular with who my friends were during the “Bible selling days” because most of the time I was alone while my husband worked long hours. During those years, I became friends with lots of older people (they were probably just in their 60s like I am now, but then that was old to me), mothers that needed baby sitters, with funny people, serious people, rich people, poor people and even some Methodists.

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