MY BEST FRIEND, PART II

Refer to:
Our Residents' Stories,
Growing Up "Colored" in New York,
My Best Friend
which is Part I

Joyce is Black. Ursula is White. Were their worlds too far apart to keep the childhood friendship? During high school their social lives began to separate. After graduation it was over ten years before the opportunity came to meet once more and Joyce remembered that "something in her voice told me we could never be friends again."

Could there have been a misunderstanding?

MY BEST FRIEND, PART II by Joyce Gittoes	About a year and a half ago, I got my computer. I didn't ask for one, nor did I buy one. It was given to me--FREE! How could I turn down--FREE? So, I said, thank you, bought a comfortable chair and a computer station, and started to play with my new computer. After a while I found Classmates.com, the website that helps you find old friends and classmates.
Naturally, the first name I put in was Ursula’s. Needless to say, nothing came up. I soon found out that the only way a name appears on Classmates is if the owner puts it there. So, I put mine on the list, and I also became a Gold member, which means you can contact the people you find on there. It wasn't free, but it was reasonable enough.	Joyce and Ursula High School Graduation - 1953

Then, I looked again at the list, and saw the names of quite a few former high school classmates whom I remembered, so I started to contact them. After just chatting with them for a while, I realized that my high school graduating class’s 50th Reunion would be in June, 2003. So, I asked them what they thought about having a 50th Reunion celebration. They all thought it would be a great idea, and a thought turned into a plan, and I became the primary planner.

I used my yearbook to start the search, and I enlisted the help of some of my new friends to assist me in finding the other 500 or so former classmates . And, so the plan was put into action. There were ten of us at the time, and I divided the book up into ten sections of 50 or so names a piece. I took the first section, and Boetticher was in my section.

I knew Ursula was married, and I knew the last time I spoke to her, she lived in New Jersey, and I had a funny feeling that her married name began with a "B" also, but I just couldn't remember it. I thought, "God wouldn't let me go through all this, and not find Ursula, would he?" So, I decided to put my money where my mouth was. I purchased a search for Ursula with the information that I had--her first name, her approximate age, and the last known state she lived in. I was sent three pages of Ursula’s , approximately 66 years ago, living in New Jersey, and I started to call them.

I looked for the other former graduates in between looking for Ursula, and I checked Classmates every day for new people. Our list was growing by leaps and bounds, from the original ten or so, to over 100. One Sunday evening in June (I think) I was checking Classmates for new people, and I saw her name--Ursula Boetticher Bette. I couldn't believe my eyes. I said, out loud, "Oh, God, I knew you wouldn't let me down." I just kept screaming, "Oh, my God!" over and over. It’s a wonder somebody didn't call the police.

I was right about the name beginning with "B". I looked at the list I had. It was there, but there was no telephone number, just an address. I would have found her eventually, after I had called all the ones with telephone numbers. But, God decided to cut me some slack, and sent her to Classmates.

I sent Ursula a message via Classmates, and for some reason, it took a while for her response, but we finally spoke via e-mail at first, and then telephone. She said, when she saw my name, she did the same thing I did when I saw her name. I also heard from her husband, Sig, after he read my story on the Westward Ho website.

He said: "Tears came to my eyes when I realized that you thought I didn't like you because you are Black." It turned out that nothing was further from the truth.

"Sig" and I are good friends now. We all keep in touch at least once a week by e-mail, or an occasional phone call. We look forward to meeting each other, and I plan to spend a few days at their home when I go back East for the reunion in June. We don't plan to ever lose touch again.