I was re-watching “Young Guns” the other night. I love that movie, not because of the bloodshed or because it’s a great western, but because of the message that I get from it. The message, to me, is summed up at the end when the announcer says that a single word was etched on Billy the Kid’s tombstone – PALS.
I have friends and I have Pals. There is a difference. I’m proud of my friends and love that they have come into my life. I’m always honored to have shared their paths. Friends are people you know, talk with, laugh with over coffee, but wouldn’t call upon them to say – go to battle with you over the death of your boss or anything.
Now a Pal…a Pal would stand right next to you as guns were blazing on the dirt covered streets of Tombstone. Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp were Pals.
I’ve never asked my Pals to fight a gun battle with me, but here are some of things they have done for and with me over the years.
When I lived in the middle of the country, far away from the white sands and ocean smells of the coast, I called a Pal and told her how I longed to have the sand between my toes and the water gently touching my ankles. She took me to a quiet lake in the Black Hills that afternoon. I walked on the beach and felt the sand between my toes and was content again to remember.
When I moved close to the coast, I called a Pal and said “We’re going to the ocean”. She gladly went on my 18 hour frenzied drive to the coast and back. When we arrived at the beach, I opened the sunroof, breathed in, and said “Ahhhhhhhhhh”.
When I lived in Alaska, the stress of the lack of sun would make me very depressed. My Pal and I had a code phrase that told her I was getting close to the edge of my mind. When I called and said “I’m cleaning my oven”, she would arrive within the hour – Latte’ in hand – and take me shopping.
When I told a Pal I was lonely and needed something to love and keep my company, she arrived on my doorstep with a kitten.
When I needed help painting my new house, my Pals spent days helping me and pushed me to finish way past the time I was ready to give up.
I have a Pal who keeps my deepest secrets and she loves me anyway.
Even though she was suffering from a much worse case of Cancer than I, my Pal would call daily and ask how I was and if I needed anything. She would remind me that I wasn’t in this fight alone. While I lived, I lost my Pal and I miss her every day.
I could go on and on, but you get the idea. I’m fortunate to have Pals, some of them are people with whom I have formed a lifelong bond and some of them are my family. I hope I can be a Pal to each of them when they call upon me to fight their gun battles – no matter how big or small.
I would consider it an honor if someone wrote PALS on my tombstone.
