"Want to know what a friend is?" Lynne D'Amico McKee '58, a small woman
with a large presence, was sitting on the couch of her Hampden, Maine,home when she proferred the question, and, a moment later, the answer. "I'll
tell you what a friend is," she said, and leaned forward so her elbows rested
on her knees. For the next 90 minutes she related stories of joyful reunions, anniversary
celebrations, birthday parties, shared vacations and children's weddings. She
talked about spouses who died, children who took their own lives, illnesses,
funerals. And through it all, friendships that endured, deepened and
solidified. McKee is one of several people--many of whom are Colby Class of '58--who
comprise a circle of friends that has shown extraordinary staying power. Nearly
40 years after they left Mayflower Hill, these former roommates and fraternity
and sorority buddies congregate regularly. When something happens to any member
of the group, phones start ringing. Soon all of the others know about it.
 Andrea Peacock Kime '58, Bruce Blanchard '58 and John Kime |
To say these folks know how to have fun would be an understatement. When they
get together, says McKee, "it's non-stop laughter." Take, for instance, the
"Colby Weekends" held annually since the late '70s at the Maine lake cottage of
Norman Lee '58 and Charlotte Clifton Lee '61. They are raucous gatherings that
inspire prodigious travel efforts. Regulars will do almost anything to avoid
missing them. Last year they came from Seattle, Los Angeles, Wisconsin--all
over the United States--and one "member" tried to come from Katmandu, Nepal.
What began as a tiny gathering of old fraternity buddies has grown to involve
dozens of people. Children are now bringing grandchildren as the parties spill
over into the next generation. "I think our kids have come to enjoy it as much
as or more than we do," Norman Lee said. In an age when friendships are as transient as careers, the solidarity of
this group of Colbians seems extraordinary, if not unique. "A lot of people
focus their friendships on where they live," Norman Lee said. "We've done just
the opposite. Distance is not a factor for us." Beryl Scott Glover '58 calls it simply "a love network." Friends for life? As
far as she is concerned, there's no other kind. "I decided a long time ago that
these people were too important to me to let them slip out of my life," she
said. Glover says she and her late husband, Bob--a Bowdoin graduate and "honorary
member of the Colby Class of '58"--moved so often they joked that he was "a
migrant worker." The result of so many different addresses was that the Glovers
said a lot of goodbyes. "It became very painful to leave friends behind, so I
decided I was going to take my friends with me," she said. "I found that I
could put a WATS line to better purpose than anybody in the universe." If shared happiness has been the glue of these friendships over the past 40
years, shared sorrow has been the cement. Nearly everyone in the group has
dealt with the loss of a loved one, a serious illness, or both. McKee's
husband, Robert, died in 1988; Glover's husband died in 1993. Eleven years
prior to losing her mate, Glover had endured the suicide of her daughter,
Kathy, to whom she had donated a kidney two years earlier. "We've shared each
other's happiness and we've shared sadness, too," McKee said. On February 27, 24-year-old Bradford Lee, a specialist fourth class in the
Army National Guard, "loved by everyone who knew him," according to his father,
Norman, committed suicide. The Lees, always the couple who had brought other
Colbians together, now received an outpouring of love and support. McKee and
Glover mobilized the army of friends to come to the Lees' aid. "Beryl and Lynne
must have called 50 people. I heard from classmates I hadn't heard from in
years," said Norman Lee, his voice breaking. "I don't think we realized how
much these people meant to us until Brad's death." McKee says Norman called her on Mother's Day, a few weeks after his son's
death, in tears. "Norman is a very loving man. If there is something he can do
to make somebody happy he will do it. I wish there was a way to take some of
the burden he and Charlotte are carrying. When they hurt, I hurt too," she
said. The deaths of these loved ones has brought home the fact that pain will be a
companion to joy as these friendships age. "Up until the time Lynne and Beryl
lost their husbands we felt invincible," said Norman Lee. "We just thought we
would always be together. I think those deaths brought a new dimension, a
deeper understanding, to our relationships. We appreciated life more and we
appreciated each other more."
 Charlotte Clifton Lee '61, Norman Lee '58, John Wilson '60 and Penny Wilson |
Glover recalls how her grief following the suicide of her daughter was made
easier by Colby friends, and in turn allowed her to provide comfort later to
others confronting a loss. "I've been the beneficiary of the depth of these
friendships, and I've been a participant when my buddies faced these tough
challenges," she said. "When Kathy died I felt a circle of love around me; the
Colby gang was there. When Lynne's [husband] Bob died I had something to give
her, and the same was true when the Lees lost Brad. I knew what they were going
through. If you've had to gut it out yourself and others have showed you the
way, you are better able to give comfort and support." The death of classmate Andria Peacock Kime in 1992 provided another
illustration of the closeness of the members of the Class of '58 and their
extended network. Kime was diabetic and was told by doctors that she probably
wouldn't live past the age of 35. They missed by 20 years. A few days before she died, Kime called a classmate from the emergency room to
apologize because she couldn't attend a reunion planning meeting. She had
disguised her illness so effectively that many of the classmates at that
meeting were shocked to learn of her death, McKee said. When the reunion took
place several months later her classmates selected a Japanese cherry tree on
the Colby campus to dedicate in her memory. Glover, Kime's Colby roommate,
wrote the memorial eulogy. "Everybody showed up for the ceremony," she said.
"Her death was part of the ongoing love network in our group. The troops
gathered around and supported her husband and her children and stayed in
touch."