My Friend’s Parents

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• April 17, 2023

When my best friend Lauren graduated with her degree in Pharmacy, her parents threw a big backyard party. At this point, we were all legally allowed to drink, so my group of friends often partied with our parents. The older I get, the more I realize just how special my childhood friendships were and are— these are people I’ve been best friends with since elementary school or middle school and we’re still all friends today. It is impossible to imagine what a different person I’d be had I not grown up with this group of friends.

Lauren and I met back in Kindergarten and have been best friends ever since. There were times in my life where I spent an equal amount of time at her family’s house, The LaPinta’s, (who lived just down the block) as I did my own home. The LaPinta’s are famously a kind people. Like in a way that if I didn’t spend so much of my life with them, at their dinner table, on vacation visiting their Abuela in Puerto Rico… I would not fully be convinced people that genuinely kind could even exist. I never saw her parents yell at her or her siblings. In fact, I only ever saw her dad raise his voice at their dog. On top of being the sweetest, they are all brilliantly smart and all work in medicine. Saving the word. One kind gesture after another.

My family is a good family… but we’re not particularly nice. And we did yell a lot. Not even just because we were angry. We just yelled. And we quip at each other. Growing up in my house, and the extended family (especially my mom’s side) meant being able to give and take relentless jokes. We prided ourselves on walking the line of clever, silly and totally ridiculous and often a little mean. We were more into making fun of each other than complimenting each other. That’s why to this day, I’m absolute shit at giving compliments (I’m more of a backhanded compliment kind of gal) and I’m even worse at receiving compliments. If you want to see me squirm just give me a compliment and I turn autistic real fast. I’m an asshole for this very reason; I will be mean to you to your face and behind your back I will say the nicest things about you. And the only way you’re going to get the version of me that is going to tell you ‘I love you’ is to get me drunk.

Our little rat pack growing up was a crew of misfits. We didn’t fit into any of the high school cliches. And we didn’t much care for being cool or popularity, we just wanted to have fun. We were a group of athletes, honors students, theater kids, stoners, drunks, beach bums, film junkies and jokesters. We got along with most people, but we mostly just cared about our team. We were beloved by our parents. There were certain houses we frequented more than others, and granted we were all pains the asses to adults at times, but we were generally good kids. I frequently hung out with my friend’s parents without them. At times, even, I preferred the company of my friend’s parents than my friend.

[A very old picture. Some of my best friends to this day.]

Back to Lauren’s college graduation party. Lauren’s dad brought out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and poured shots for us. They were warm and disgusting. He totally wasted an expensive bottle of whiskey on us, but the LaPinta’s are exceedingly generous. A lot of my friends are whip smart and took school very seriously (as did I). But we knew how to party and we drank to drink and get drunk enough to dance. We usually succeeded.

At some point, I snuck away from the party with my friend Katie’s mom to smoke weed. We smoked weed out front behind some shrubberies. She made me promise I wouldn’t tell her daughter I was smoking weed with her. I did but it wasn’t a promise I was going to keep. At this time, weed was still a touch taboo even though everyone did it. I smoked weed with a lot of my friends moms at their parties. When we went back to the party, as soon as I saw Katie, I said, “I smoked weed with your mom. She told me not to tell you.”

To which Katie responded, “um… I smoked weed with your mom and she told me not to tell you!”

And then we laughed and laughed and laughed.

It know it seems weird but Christine’s mom joined us on her bachelorette party to Cherry Grove, Fire Island (a hilarious story for another blog) and we had a blast. When one of my best pals, Brendan, moved to Florida, I still went to his house to borrow his kayaks and after I would have drinks with his parents and bull shit with them. At weddings, I have just as much laughs with many of my friends parents, exchanging stories at the bar or on the dance floor. When my parents moved, my friends were more upset that my folks were selling my childhood home than my parents were. So many memories of playing kick the can, manhunt, water balloon fights, BBQs and late nights around a fire.

[A high school party when someone’s parents were out. Alaina. Lauren. Jimmy. And me.]

As you can see, as we grew up, we actually doubled our friend group by uniting the generations. I come from a huge family. And I had a second huge family among friends.

In the summers, I still frequent Long Island. Because that second family of mine lives for the summer. Our priority becomes to get to a beach. Bring booze and music.

We recently lost Katie’s dad to cancer. Katie’s dad was a sharp tongued Italian. He always had a little mischievous twinkle in his eyes and just loved to fuck with his kids friends. Katie is the oldest of six, and her house was often filled with kids— loud, chaotic, fun. I was in middle school and I came over to hang out with Katie and the girls. I was the tomboy of the girls, so I usually was running around in the street with the boys more than I’d gossip with the girls, but this was a co-ed group of friends and we are all close.

The girls were downstairs in Katie’s room. I wandered into the living room where her dad and two of her brother’s were watching The Exorcist. I love horror movies, even back then. Her dad invited me to watch the movie with them and I did. In catatonic fear. But I knew if I let on how scared I was, Katie’s dad would fuck with me, so I put on my brave face. When I went home and told my mom I watched The Exorcist with Katie’s dad, instead of getting mad because I was so young, my mom told me it was a true story and for years I went on believing that story actually happened as told in the movie. It is still, hands down, the scariest movie ever.

Whether it was animal house at the Galgano’s. ‘Trampoline Ball’ at the Culmo’s. Boat adventures with the Winters. Dinner at the LaPinta’s. Being cheered on the soccer field by Brittany and Meredith’s mom. Vacationing with Matt’s Dad in the Caribbean. Beach time with the Murphy’s. Tiki Bar parties with the O’Hara’s. Backyard BBQ with Jon’s dad. New Year’s Eve parties at the Evarts. My Mom bar-tending on our deck for us on a hot summer’s day. All my friend’s parents have supported my stand up. And when some of the boys were in a band, everyone showed up to their venues and we fucking rocked out. We enjoy each other’s company, and there’s a general feeling of gratitude that we are on this ride on this rock floating in space together.

[From a vacation in our early 20s. Typical.]

Now, my friends have kids and are having kids. We don’t all get together like we used to, but when we do, it’s an impossible amount of laughs. I look at their little ones now and I hope they find their group of people early. I hope they realize how rad their parents are after they pass the stage of hating them. And like times of past and present, we will all continue to cheers together, one happy extended family.