(Caution:  This blog post might contain never before heard confessions.  Please don’t laugh out loud.)

I’m certain you have heard it said of someone, “Oh, they’re close. They’re just like family.”  Oh really?  Are you sure?  Here’s the way to know if they’re really “just like family”– do they have the right to walk into your house and go straight to the refrigerator and get what ever they want to eat or drink?  Do they feel comfortable doing that in your home?  Do YOU feel comfortable allowing them to do that?  If the answer to all three questions is YES, then they are indeed “just like family.”  They have “refrigerator privileges!”

Recently my friend Jacob Spivey relayed to me how his father categorizes friends. According to his dad, “There are friends, and then there are friends with refrigerator privileges– and there shouldn’t be too many of them.”  Jacob’s quote actually reminded me of something similar that I experienced growing up in small town America.  Except for family, there were only two homes in Ashland that I felt had given me refrigerator privileges– the Wilsons and the Kennedys.

But then again, as I look back at it fifty years later, I’m not so sure that the Wilsons and the Kennedys actually gave me those privileges.  Could it be that I just took them?

Let me explain.

Back in the day (define “back in the day” however you wish) in the small town of Ashland, Alabama, most didn’t feel the need to lock our houses– at nighttime, yes, but not during the day.  Mary Kennedy, our neighbor across the street, always kept a house key on a nail just above the front door in case anyone needed to get in while she was gone– which wasn’t often.  She was a stay-at-home mom who spent her day cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, and chasing her daughter Cathy and me off of her freshly mopped floors.  Cathy and I were best buds, playing day-in and day-out at either of our houses and everywhere in between.

I suppose I had refrigerator privileges at Cathy’s house.  I certainly had no problem raiding their fridge at the drop of a hat.  Mrs. Kennedy always had a pone of fresh cornbread on top of the stove and chocolate candy bars in the crisper.  To enjoy either treat required a glass of milk– so I helped myself to it, whether Cathy was interested in a snack or not.  Conversely, Cathy had refrigerator privileges at the Sims’ house, but Cathy wasn’t as bold about it as I was.  Still, her refrigerator entitlement was intact.

In between the Sims residence and the Kennedy abode lived the Wilson family.  Bill and Rudine Wilson were away at work until 5, and Bob and Becky were always busy with after school activities, so their beautiful house and yard just sat there all alone– like a playground begging for action.  Cathy and I felt that we surely had refrigerator privileges at the Wilson’s house!  They wouldn’t mind.  Besides, the door into their basement and the stairs leading up into the house were always unlocked, so why not?  The only obstacle we had to deal with was little Cheeta (a bug-eyed Chihuahua who was more than proud to wear a tiny monogramed sweater) who barked furiously, and who likely experienced night terrors because of us.

The Wilson’s house was the best!  They had kid level cabinets filled with lots of games– not up on high shelves or out of reach– but low and generously convenient for us to access.  We also played concerts for one another on the piano, and perused every Childcraft volume in their collection.  We even found the drawer that held paper, pencils, tape and glue.  Childcraft projects were always more fun at the Wilson’s house.

Happily, we could always count on drinking out of two shiny metal tumblers in their kitchen  cabinet.  One was blue and had “Becky” engraved on it, and the other was red with “Bob” on it.  Juice or water was always better out of those two cups.  We often argued out of who got the blue one.  Becky’s cup was the favorite.

There was also a cool, ultra-modern one-piece phone with a red button on the bottom in the Wilson’s master bedroom.  It was always a big deal to show it to all our friends.  Yes, you heard it right.  We shared our refrigerator privileges with any of our friends that happened to be visiting, and I even taught my little sister Donna how to tap into those privileges as well.  Walt, Lee, Deb, Donna and Gary all enjoyed the Wilson’s hospitality.  I’m just not sure the Wilson’s knew the extent of it.  I’m not sure our parents knew either.

I cringe when I recall this– more than once I showed Walt and Lee the long Japanese sword that  Mr. Wilson brought back from World War 2.  It was in the back left corner of the master  bedroom closet.  (I’m actually blushing right now, knowing Becky is going to read this confession.)  Of course, Bob and Becky had refrigerator privileges at my house as well– but I’m not sure they ever used them.  I wonder why?

Honestly, we weren’t embarrassed to be there when the Wilsons got home from work. In fact, hearing Mrs. Wilson walk up the stairs from the basement was nothing more than a signal that it was five o’clock and might be time to go home.  She never acted surprised and never seemed like anything was wrong, always greeting us with a friendly smile and engaging conversation. (At least that’s how I remember it.)  Poor Bill and Rudine. They were probably counting the days until we grew up and left home. Today I feel so remorseful about invading their home, and the messes I’m sure we left behind.

We truly owe the Wilson family a huge apology.  Still, we never stole anything from them, nor did we intend to do any damage.  (One of us accidentally stepped on Cheeta’s leg one day and broke it.  That’s another story for another time.)  But they never complained; never called the police; never threatened to sue our parents; and never locked us out– and they certainly could have if they had wanted to.  They were classy, loving, patient saints indeed.

Those were different days, in different times– a world ago.  It was a time when we all feared nuclear war with the Russians, but we didn’t fear each other.  Our neighbors were our best friends.  We shared refrigerator privileges with one another—  in our hearts and in our daily lives.  Like Jesus taught us,

                                                               “Love your neighbor as yourself.”   Mark12:31