If you’ve ever been a fan of stories about star-crossed lovers, boy do I have a tale for you. Some might say the fates have cursed this duo; some might believe there is still hope for their happy ending. All I can tell you is the history, and assure you that while this romance is tragic, it is part of a much bigger tale of triumph.
When I was nothing more than a toddling child, I fell in love with a mediocre chain restaurant. Locations were few and far between, but in my hometown this establishment was situated on the National Road, facing the Dayton International Airport. While mediocre to the masses, this place served exactly the mac and cheese and creative sundaes that my young heart desired. It was called Friendly’s and it was nothing short of perfect. If you wanted the feel of a diner with reliable comfort food, you went to Friendly’s. If you wanted to sit in your car sipping a milkshake on a blazing summer day with a view of the planes taking off, you went to Friendly’s. I experienced my first heartbreak when Friendly’s closed and I discovered that there were no more locations anywhere west of Pittsburgh. Not to fear, these two will be reunited again, but we’ll circle back to that. Let me go ahead and paint you the bigger picture.
My dear friend Hank takes a handful of visits to his grandmother’s lake house in Pymatuning, Pennsylvania, each year. We were staring down the start of our sophomore year of college when he suggested to a group of us that we come with him for Labor Day. Thrilled to be included in something so important, I packed up a weekend bag along with my friends Andi and Ian and we made our way just beyond the Ohio-Pennsylvania border.
This is where our initial love story becomes a whole anthology, because with a place as charming as Pymatuning and a group of people as great as mine you can’t help but fall in love with all the little moments.
I fell in love with the way the sun set behind a curtain of clouds over the lake. It was soft, shadowy, painted in pastels. The four of us sat on a bench along the jutting rocky walkway, our only company the handful of fishermen who were stocked and ready to head into the night. We had just come from a fish fry, so our bellies were full and our hearts a little warm and fuzzy when we crowded together to watch as the sun quietly slipped from the sky, inviting the stars to take their places. I felt a contented amusement like no other when Ian laid down on the concrete for a better view of the constellations, musing about the vastness of the universe and our miniscule place in it.
A soft spot remains in my heart for the paper lantern show we witnessed later that night. We had driven to a different side of the lake for a better view of the stars and stumbled across a dozen people gathered together down shore to release their lanterns into the black sky. We kept our distance and admired from afar. Miles and miles away, heat lightning danced from cloud to cloud, sharing the sky only with dots of light that could have been lanterns or stars, either one a wish in the night. Of course, we were a little nervous about whether or not the gathering would notice they had onlookers, and we just about scrambled out of there when we thought we saw a figure approaching in the darkness, but hey, I think it adds to the memory. They can’t all be poetic all the time, right?
I even maintain a certain affinity for the firework/candy/gun shop that persuaded us to get off the highway somewhere between New York and Pennsylvania based solely off its name. To be fair, Big Woodie’s is a fantastic name, especially when they’re advertising fireworks, which is exactly what you’re looking for. There was a certain light in my friends’ eyes that can only be solicited via explosives and I am eternally grateful for getting to share such a moment with them. I enjoyed the display from afar later that evening as the men of the lake pulled “hold my beer” moves one after the other until the cops started circling and we had to act nonchalant. Every sparkling burst in the sky reverberated in my chest, stirring up fondness for the wonderful residents of Pymatuning and how quickly they accepted us right into the heart of the place with all its simple pleasures and exciting events alike.
I know, you’ve been curious, what does any of this have to do with Friendly’s? I’m here to tell you that these pieces of stories paint a bigger picture about how moving on from a heartbreak like that is possible. You have to have your heart open and be willing to give your love to all the other little things instead, like sunsets and firework stores, and the glow in a friend’s eye that is only present in certain quiet places like at the lake. This trip brought out the best in everyone. It also brought out the knowledge that there was a Friendly’s in Jamestown, New York, a doable driving distance from Pymatuning for a day out. We were reunited, at last, and I got to introduce my friends to my old love. It was everything I remembered, and that was beautiful too. Of course, we returned to the lake for Labor Day the next year only to hear of the closing of the Jamestown Friendly’s. I guess not everything is meant to last. I’m fortunate, though, to have replaced that hole in my heart with so many other lovely moments and to have found a home in a place like Pymatuning.
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