Pauline Shearer, left, and Joan Petitti, both 70, have been friends since they were 5 years old and attended St. Mary’s School in DeKalb, Ill. They were making Valentine cards Feb. 11 at Petitti’s home in St. Pete Beach.
Our desks were side by side from grades 1-8, and we became known as Pauline and Joan, as in one breath. There were only six girls in our tiny classroom at St. Mary's School in DeKalb, Ill., and in the early years, Pauline and I became best friends. After school we walked to each other's homes and, on the weekend, we had a sleepover at one of them. I always thought we were so much alike, but in retrospect we were light-years apart.
She was an only daughter and I was the oldest of five daughters. I enjoyed the serenity of her home with only her parents and one younger brother, and she loved the wonderful noise and confusion of my four younger sisters, an older brother, my parents and my grandfather. It was never quiet at my house.
Sister Mary Rogeria was our favorite nun. She smiled at our friendship and sometimes turned the enormous black box of her habit so she wouldn't see us exchange notes or giggle behind a cupped hand. On Friday mornings, we had art and, in 1942, a fourth-grade art class in a small Catholic school consisted of passing out construction paper and pastel sticks of chalk. We opened the top of our desks to take out a small bottle of thick white paste, a box of crayons and blunt-edged scissors. It was our only chance for free expression with crayons and chalk - a break from catechism, English and arithmetic.
Valentine's Day was special and brought out the true artist in us. Sister Rogeria gave each student a sheet of red construction paper and a white doily, and we traced hearts onto the paper, then cut doilies with our scissors for a lacy background. Two hearts pasted together at one edge gave us room for a verse or signature on the second heart. The valentines were always brought home and hidden in a dresser drawer, then ceremoniously brought out and put on the breakfast table for mom and dad on Valentine's Day.
Those years slid away from us after our first year of college together. Our lives took different directions, and geography separated us. Our only contact was a Christmas card with a brief synopsis of the year. We both had large families: Pauline had four children and I had five. I did contact her to let her know that my second son was born on her birthday and that I named him Paul. She felt honored.
It was at our 50th high school reunion that we looked at each other and wondered where the years had gone for the two inseparable girls of long ago. We decided to renew our friendship and became best friends again. Even though we live a thousand miles apart, we would make every effort to see each other at least twice a year. She would vacation nearby and we could spend time together, even have a sleepover at our house. The husbands seemed compatible and were happy about us 70-year-old "girls" being together again.
A box arrived two weeks before her arrival. In the square brown box was a supply of red handmade paper, ribbon, vellum and an assortment of rubber stamps: hearts, angels and verse. There was also a note saying that after 60 years, we would sit side by side again and make valentines for our sweethearts.
- Joan Petitti, 70, is a freelance writer in St. Pete Beach
