Jealousy keeps cropping up at different times in our lives

I have two friends who aren't speaking to each other. I think they're both behaving childishly. That's because I remember the hurt, the anger I felt when a best friend seemed to prefer sharing her secrets with another friend. A friend whom I liked too, but who was not me. At age 11, it was a disaster. So I stopped speaking to both of them. That'll fix 'em!

My daughters had similar experiences at about the same age. I remember wisely counseling them to put aside their anger, to be big and brave, and to rise above petty jealousy. This latest silent war involves two women, both living alone, who have been close friends for many years. I'll call the younger one Sadie. The older, I'll call Doris. Doris is in very poor health. Sadie has given countless hours to her friend, Doris, driving her to appointments, bringing her food and generally being there for her. Sadie has a gentleman friend. Doris is not fond of the gentleman. She thinks he takes advantage of Sadie. She doesn't like their arrangement. Recently Doris called Sadie for help. Sadie was on her way out the door to take her gentleman friend to the hospital for a follow-up appointment because of his recent bout with cancer. She told Doris that she couldn't help at that moment. Doris hung up on her.

Sadie believes that Doris is annoyed because she, Sadie, likes her gentleman friend better than she likes Doris. Sadie is fed up. She won't speak to Doris until she gets an apology. Doris is stubborn and won't call. (Does any of this sound familiar?)

When my mother was old and ill she graciously encouraged me to start a new life with my new husband. My old life had involved taking care of her for several years. The problem was that she steadfastly refused to consider getting someone else to do for her the things I had been doing. So I spent a lot of time continuing to be her gofer, her chauffeur and cook. She didn't consider the anxiety that situation caused. I was the only one she trusted, the one who had been through all the bad stuff with her. No one else would do; certainly not a stranger. It's impossible to practice Tough Love on one's infirmed mother.

I think Doris is in the same situation, but Sadie isn't her daughter or even a relative. She would love for Doris to get help she could rely upon. But why should Doris do that when she usually has Sadie available?

Vanity prevents Doris from asking other friends, like me, to help out sometimes, although many of us have offered. She doesn't want anyone to see how old and frail she has become. She's like my mother in that respect. Sadie is annoyed that Doris won't recognize that her gentleman is important to her, too. So the war of silence goes on. Sadie calls others to check on Doris and her condition, but she won't call Doris.

I'm not the wise mom in this situation, so I can't step in and tell them both to lighten up and behave. They both act as if there were no limit on the time they have to play this silly game. I sympathize with both of them. I remember that sinking, "I'm not numero uno" feeling. And I remember the frustration of being The One upon whom another depends solely, no matter what other priorities I might have. I certainly didn't want to see a competition develop between my mother and my husband, but I felt helpless. How to be a good daughter and a good wife? How to keep from resenting my mother's possessiveness? And my husband's?

Many of us never really grow up. It's possible that old age and the physical problems that go with it put us all in touch with our inner child. If there were a Big Mom, some senior arbiter to whom we all deferred, she would tell Doris and Sadie to take time out. They would both be reminded that they were in trouble because they hadn't learned yet. The Golden Rule rules, says Big Mom, and she really, really means it.

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