Retro RFH Honey Buns of a Funny Valentine

RFH Freshman Follies 1975 rendition of Honey Bun with Stephanie DeSesa, Ward Tietz and Elaine Van Develde Photo/George Day
RFH Freshman Follies 1975 rendition of Honey Bun with Stephanie DeSesa, Ward Tietz and Elaine Van Develde
Photo/George Day

Well, the hubbub of Valentine’s Day, hearts and roses is looming. And this mind is musing over its true meaning, if there must be one.  And if there must be, the best would be Valentines of a different kind. The best kind. Best friends.

Remember the big ol’ shoe box full of Valentines you got from your elementary school classmates? Remember your kids getting that slew hearts and of toting that home? It was mandatory, yet the feelings fostered in those classrooms among a passel of kids with eager, open hearts, were not.

For some, or many, the simple gesture of scrolling a heart and silly message on a tiny cartooned piece of cardboard was the start of a lifetime of milestone moments and crazy memories engraved in the ol’ ticker.

This is a Valentine for best friends, the irreplaceable antics endured with them and, most of all, a true love like no other — near life-long friendship.

This Retro Pic of the (George) Day scene on the ol’ RFH stage takes us back to a couple of best friends since second grade, an unwitting RFH class president, entertainment at the hands of primo pranksters and lots of laughs in the mix. The funniest of Valentines. The best.

The staged moments captured are at the 1975 Freshmen Follies when Ward Tietz, class president, got drafted by this crazy, catastrophic duo to get all dolled up with a hula skirt, coconut shell top and a festive cigar and dance a little to our Honey Bun from South Pacific.

I was the actress. She was the chief prankster and troublemaker. There were actually three of us. A threesome of best buds. Each with her own brand of kooky fierceness. And blood-sister loyalty. The other escaped this escapade. I’m not sure how she managed to do that, but she did.

As for the two of us RFH hooligans and this staged moment … 

There were rehearsals in the basement at babysitting jobs with a plastic record player, a constant replay of the song Honey Bun, dance moves choreographed, more like stumbled upon, us wanting to kill each other, and laughs … lots of laughs.

I made her do it. I still can’t believe she did. That’s OK, she made me do lots of things, too, with that everlasting threat of “I’m your friend! I would do it for you!” Call her the devil. Always raising a little Hell. We all know that friend. Or at least I hope you do. 

Mine was Stephanie DeSesa. We were Fair Haven girls. We met at Knollwood School in second grade. She was my friend from the age of 7 when her dad drove us to the bowling alley to tote some giant balls and strike out — a lot.

The toting was never a fear for us. We had guts, in a sissy kind of way.  Guts to laugh really hard and loud — and sometimes snort and spit a little. Guts. From that first day of gutter balling, it was one hell of strike for us. Ups, downs, good, bad and crazy, oh, so crazy … but always a win, like nothing else. Nothing.

Nothing like that old best friend who knows all your kinks and never tries to flat-iron them out. That friend who rolls with the best and worst of you and you with her, enduring many traditional Valentines and exacting girlfriend revenge on some bad boyfriend with some shameless stalking, telling off and prank phone calling.

Yeah, the advent of caller ID had Steph in a tizzied state of depression back in the 80s. That’s because she was that one who was always up for some standing by you with a little mischief to make you feel better. Caller ID foiled many a great prank call. Of course, it was reciprocated, but under the threat of “I would do it for you!” That’s a Valentine of the best kind. Really.

So, when it’s your turn to drag her into a Lucy & Ethel role of humiliation and zaniness, the “I would do it for you!” works and indelible memories are made. And that’s what you are left with, and that’s a lot, when that irreplaceable friend is  gone.

Steph passed away very suddenly in 2011. The other Musketeer in this zany Fair Haven-raised Knollwood and RFH brood, Daryl Cooper Ley, met her on the other side in 2019. They were my funny Valentines. I was theirs. Tradition be damned. We were certainly not the only troupe of childhood friend funny Valentines. Anyone nodding to our behavior and crazy kinship has had a childhood friend who has lasted a lifetime. Yes, the best of Valentines. 

Sometimes a half-thought-out box of cheap chocolates, a rose that someone else turned down, a crock of soup, some misbegotten “I like you enough … until someone better comes along” crap, or some chocolate lips (don’t ask), just don’t make the heart swell the same way as lifetime friendship does.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a little confection and flora or a quality beau, for that matter. Just sayin … But, Valentines like lifetime friends always stay. They are what put the tick in ol’ ticker — make it smile wide forever.

So, “stay little Valentines, stay” … In my life, I loved you both more.

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