My Most UNLIKELY FRIEND

Would you hang out with your spouse’s ex? Or befriend someone who kicked you in the face? These readers did and found lifelong companions

I met my best friend, Bill Cervenka, at work. I was 23, and he was 85, but it seemed I had more in common with him than with any friends my age. We were both really stubborn. He always had an umbrella, and whenever it was raining after work, he used to say, “Let me walk you to your car.” I would always decline the offer, but he would say, “I’m walking you to your car whether you like it or not.”

Bill and I always took the same lunch break. He didn’t recognise some of my dishes and often asked what I was eating. I always offered him a taste, along with some of my Oreo biscuits. Eventually it became our tradition that every time a new

limited edition Oreo flavour was released, we waited to try it together.

Bill passed away in April 2019. I miss him every day. Now I always carry my umbrella and make sure people without one don’t get wet. And when someone declines my offer, I say, “I’m walking you whether you like it or not.”

Giovanni Paz Villa

Tina is my best friend. She is also my husband’s ex-wife. When we first met, she and Bob had been divorced for more than 12 years, and he and I had been dating only a short time. We didn’t become close friends right away. It took years of getting to know each other and seeing each other for who we truly are. We’ve stood together through difficult times and family hardships. We’ve shared wonderful celebrations, and we were together to see the birth of our first grandson. Even though we now live 2400 kilometres apart, Bob and I still take holidays with her and her husband, and Saturday is our ‘phone call’ day. She has brought so much joy and love into my life. I don’t know what I’d do without my best friend.

Jana Fisher

Bill Greenhaw was a retired school principal who looked rather stern. He was an organist and highly respected in our parish. I wore leather jackets and rode a motorcycle. One day, I jokingly asked him if he would like to go out to lunch with me on my bike. To my surprise, he accepted!

He was the opposite of me in so many ways, but he enjoyed riding with me on my bike. We took many rides together, but he never told anyone about them. I think it brought out a sense of adventure in him, and I was the only person he felt comfortable sharing that side of himself with. He was shy around most people. At his funeral, I told his family about our rides, and they were astonished. I miss his kind and gentle character, and our rides together.

Bobby Mills

It was my husband, David, who urged me to read a book by Cecil Murphey and to apply for a scholarship he was offering for a writing conference in 2012. By the time I learned I had won it, my husband had unexpectedly died. I wanted to meet the man who was responsible for my scholarship, so I attended a conference where he was speaking. When I heard a few months later that his wife had died, I began writing him letters. I may have been nearly 30 years younger than he was, but this was one path

I had walked before him. I sent him portions of my book in progress, and he ended up writing a foreword for that book.

I write him a long letter at least once a month. I ask for his advice on writing, life, faith, even dating. He answers by email, never failing to say exactly what I need to hear. I’ve saved all of his e-mails, more than 125 of them. I can honestly say that an 87-year-old man is one of my best friends.

Mary Potter Kenyon

We are the same age. And we both like to sing. That’s where the similarities stop. The differences go on and on.

We met more than 20 years ago in our local choir. Karen is a lovely, quiet woman who would never think of using make-up. And then there’s me. I put make-up on to take out the garbage, and I don’t have an inside voice.

So, why are we friends? Because we share our ethics and our music. We love each other for being ourselves and for being good people with good hearts. When we meet for breakfast, I show up in my brightly coloured top, and she comes in with her hair tied back and her charity shop jeans. I sit and sip my coffee with soy milk while she enjoys her glass of plain water, and we talk for hours. We just work together. She is one of my favourite people.

Sue Wallace

I met Connie in 1976, when we were both competing in a tae kwon do tournament. Both red belts, we had been paired to compete against each other. As we sat next to each other waiting for our match, Connie began to talk to me. She was friendly and had a wonderful smile. I was struck by how nice she was. Then we got up to compete. Connie suddenly put on the fiercest face you can imagine. This terrified me. Out of self-preservation, I proceeded to kick her in the head – twice – and won the match.

Despite this, Connie and I became close friends. And despite our many differences, we have remained friends throughout the last 43 years. Connie is black and I am white. She was raised in a big city and I was brought up in a small town. Connie is a moderate voter and I am a conservative voter.

Connie now lives on the other side of the country, but we keep in touch through social media. One of her favourite things to do is to introduce me as her bestie who put a foot in her face. Susan Liss

In 1977, I was a ten-year-old tomboy growing up on a farm. I still remember Wayne’s voice on the phone telling me, “Suzanne, your horses are in the garden again and Dolly [his wife] and Hazel [his mother] are mad!” Wayne kept me company while I got the troublemakers out of the garden.

Wayne was 85 when I introduced him to my husband. Now my husband and I see him every time we return home to the farm. We have a standing birthday breakfast date every year. In 2020, Wayne turned 100.

Suzanne Ryan