Kathy Boroff and Iva Bolling are my Jihad Catholic friends.
That’s what my husband calls the three of us. He jokes that we’re the last of a dying breed of old Catholics - you know, the ones like your grandma who always carry a Rosary, pray endless Novenas and stash holy cards in the glove compartment. I never dreamed I’d be that old devout Catholic lady, but here we are.
You wouldn’t think we were so devout if you heard Kathy drop the “F” bomb. She says it like it’s the first word she ever learned.
When the three of us had to reschedule our coffee date because I forgot the original, I pleaded forgiveness.
“No worries,” Kathy soothed with her FM radio voice, beautiful and low. “Don’t f—k up again.”
Every time it kills me. You never expect that word to come out of the elegant, serene Kathy Boroff.
I love my young friends and former students with their life-giving energy and all-the-time-in-the-world freshness. But in my retirement, I find myself gravitating toward my older friends more and more. I need Iva and Kathy and my book club buddies and my long time cherished friends. None of us have lived this long without acquiring a little perspective, and we’re all on the same page of this crazy life together.
A young woman I am barely acquainted with on social media recently vowed to expose the identity of a merchant who sent her bedsheets with a 280 count instead of the 500 count she’d requested. She wondered how difficult it was for even a “barely educated idiot” to punch in the correct order.
I so badly wanted to reply.
“Someday you’re going to die.”
I bet she could sleep on those sheets then.
She, perhaps, would have perceived that as a death threat, and it didn’t seem worth the trouble. Besides, I remember having unhealthy attachments to possessions when I was young. These days I only care that my 2012 Prius lasts as long as I do. And my teeth and my kidneys. And also my hair.
That’s why I need my Boomer friends. So much of life is behind us rather than ahead of us, and we’re savoring our time together.
Kathy and Iva and I don’t waste much of it. That coffee hour stretches into two sometimes as we laugh and talk and enjoy each other, and not once does the topic of bed sheet count ever arise. Iva calls it our group therapy. We don’t mean to hash out such weighty issues, but eventually we always turn to matters of faith.
If I’m familiar with the gut punches life delivers sometimes, it’s nothing compared to what Kathy and Iva have experienced. How easy it is to look at these two beautiful women with their pleasant smiles and laughing demeanors and believe they’ve lived charmed lives! Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Kathy’s married to a great guy and has a wonderful son who in turn has a wonderful family. She loves being a grandmother, and one of her passions is her job as a coordinator of TeamMates in Grand Island. When she was young, her older son suffered from serious mental health issues, and her first marriage didn’t survive the strain. Kathy persevered, struggling as a single mother and ultimately witnessing her son’s dangerous decline. He’s grown now and no longer part of her life. The suffering, letting go, and acceptance of her son’s issues took a long, emotional toll. Yet, her faith sustained her and still does. You can’t spend time with Kathy and not be embraced by her tranquility and humor.
Iva - tiny and lovely - adores her good children and grandchildren. Most of all, she adores her big, handsome husband Russ. Iva was a hair stylist, and Russ was a beloved and widely respected fire fighter until their world came crashing to a halt. Several years ago, Russ was in a motorcycle accident that resulted in a spinal injury. Life from a wheelchair could have been a tragedy for Russ, but he was tremendously supported by a loving community, his kids, and most of all by Iva.
Russ’s paralysis presents challenges every day, and he and Iva deal with them together. They’ve learned to let go of the old life and figure out the new one. Iva, as Russ’s primary care giver, is sometimes the only one in a hospital who knows how to transport Russ from the bed to his chair. The stress has been enormous. Yet, neither one of them is bitter or angry. Instead, they are grateful for Russ’s life and happy to have each other.
What’s most admirable about Iva and Kathy is not the way they depend on their faith. It’s the way they give it to others. Life’s agonizing hardships have only served to make them more loving and generous people. I could go on and on about their many virtues, but something that happened at our last coffee break explained it all.
Iva and I were sitting across the table from Kathy - as usual. Iva was yacking cheerfully away - as usual.
“Do I talk too much?” she said.
“Absolutely not,” I teased. “You’re fascinating.” And she is.
But across from us, Kathy’s attention had been diverted. Behind Iva and me an elderly, homeless gentleman was doing his dangdest to coax a cup of coffee from the help at the counter.
“I’ve got good Canadian money!” he crowed, showing the crumpled bills in his hand.
Kathy shot a look at Iva.
“Shall we?” she said.
Iva nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Kathy turned on her megawatt smile and called to the gentleman.
“Sir!” she said. “I’d love to see your Canadian money!”
He turned and brightened at the sight of Kathy’s friendly face.
“It’s real,” he said, striding eagerly over to us. “This is good money,” he assured us and offered one of the bills to Kathy.
She turned it over in her hands and exclaimed in wonder. “I’ve never seen Canadian money!”
At the same time Iva was quietly emptying her billfold. She gathered every single bill and pressed them into the man’s hand.
“It’s all I have,” she smiled warmly, “but I think it’ll get you a cup of coffee.”
He stared at the money and swallowed.
“It’s always nice to meet good folks,” he finally said.
He would have walked away but Kathy called him back to return his Canadian bill. “You might be able to use this somewhere else!”
He took it, nodded humbly, and departed.
The entire exchange lasted less than two minutes. I might as well have had a front row seat at the theater - I was amazed by what I’d just witnessed. Some kind of shorthand exists between Iva and Kathy. Without saying more than five words to each other, these close friends knew exactly how to minister to an old man who had no home but who craved a hot cup of coffee.
Iva gave him money. Kathy gave him dignity.
I didn’t give him squat.
But how lucky am I to have a couple of friends like Kathy Boroff and Iva Bolling? They’ve been to hell and back, these wonderful girls. Still, they hold onto a life-saving faith in God and choose to be happy.
Every single time I’m with them, they renew, refresh and make everybody around them feel good. It’s a magnificent thing to watch their loving charity in action and to talk about our shared faith to our hearts’ content.
And it’s always a bonus if Kathy drops the F word.
