I was 19 years old when I met my best friend, George.  I had signed up for a day trip to New York City to visit the Metropolitan Museum.  I was sitting next to the window when a young man asked if the seat next to me was taken.  We didn’t know each other, just shared an art class together.  By the end of that trip, we had become friends.  By the end of college, we had become best friends.   We’ve been best friends for close to 30 years, now.

No one questions our friendship.  No one who knows us does, anyway.  I think every one else in our lives is grateful we have each other so they don’t have talk about the boring stuff George and I like to talk about.  He and I meet regularly to talk about art, books, life, etc.  I’ve actually had boyfriends say to me “Why don’t you save that for the next time you see George?”.  Fairly recently, too!  I think I would feel very lonely if I didn’t have someone I could share this part of myself with.  Isn’t that what best friends are for, after all?

George agreed to go with me on my buying trip to New York.  There were 2 things he wanted to do – go to Ground Zero and go the Whitney Museum.  We had a few hours on Saturday afternoon so we walked over to the Whitney.  There was a very cool exhibit by  the miniaturist Charles Ledray.  His tiny pieces were so meticulous – tiny children’s clothes that at first glance look like he purchased them at a Goodwill.  On closer examination you could see that he had made each one of them, all with tiny stitching and details.

On the way out of the exhibit George noticed the fire alarm on the wall.  He said he thought it was part of the exhibit.  I brushed it off saying of course it wasn’t.  We started walking down the stairs.   I started wondering.  We went back to look at the fire alarm.  George was sure he was right – I wasn’t sure he was wrong.   We went from floor to floor checking to see if all the other alarms were like it – they weren’t, they were all modern.

Sooo, we took the elevator to the basement.  I know how stupid it sounds but we couldn’t leave without knowing if he was right.   All the alarms in the basement were like the one in the exhibit.  On the walk to the hotel, we went back and forth, why was the wall in this exhibit the only place you could find an old fire alarm except the basement?  It wouldn’t be beyond the artist to have swapped out the modern fire alarm for the old one.  After all, who would spend their life sewing tiny clothes and making exhibits out of them – to what purpose?  We spent portions of the next few days discussing that stupid fire alarm.

That’s why everyone who loves us is so glad we’re best friends – saves them from searching through museum basements for fire alarms.   For them, there’s no reason for it, no purpose to it.   That’s why we’re best friends.  I don’t have to explain it to George, he just gets it, too.