My Best Friend: From Selma Dewey Calnan

I met Joan Porter Severa when she entered Madison Central Junior High in 1938. Our mothers worked—Joan’s as a single mom at Manchester’s that I thought of as the most elite store in town. Both of my parents worked so Brother Buddy (Carl) and I fended for ourselves while our recently widowed Swedish grandmother kept house. Joan and I were engrossed in school activities, writing poetry for the Mirror and working on our alliance. Nevertheless, when we played baseball Joan sprained a finger. When we idled at Lake Mendota, she fell out of a willow tree on her head into the water. When we climbed to the top of a broken-glass-studded stonewall to see what was on the other side, she fell on her knee that still hurts.

Buddy, a scientist and entrepreneur, had discovered a bonanza in the deserted rose garden that lay beyond the wall where Joan hurt her knee. He could redeem garter snakes at the Biology building on campus for three cents each! Joan and I joined him on a once-in-a-lifetime venture, spending a hot, dusty afternoon catching the unresisting snakes with our bare hands as they were draped among the rose brambles. Joan exhibited extra bravado by winding one around her arm as we dragged our catch down State Street to the biology building. Unfortunately one of her mother’s customers informed on us, the very last straw. Mrs. Porter offered her a bicycle if she would promise never to play with me again. Joan chose me over a Schwinn, sealing our friendship now in its seventy-second year.

In 1948 I moved to California and Joan stayed home, spending 30 years at the State Historical Society where we had whiled away dreamy Saturday afternoons. When she retired as curator of costume she wrote a tome, “Dressed for the Photographer,” succeeding as a magical blend of Jessica Fletcher and Auntie Mame. Then as a Master Gardener, she created a legendary garden and wrote “Shady Perennials in the Midwest” (adding Martha Stewart to her persona.) Finally, as a spin –off from her first book and with the encouragement of Sotheby’s, she wrote “My Likeness Taken,” on daguerreotypes. All three are still in print and bringing in royalty checks that surprise her as unexpected presents.

In 2007, we were last together for the 65^th and Final Reunion of Central’s Class of 1943. All that’s left of the school is the arch but we continue to bloom where we are planted—she in Madison and I in Bishop, noted for the world’s longest Mule Day parade. We keep our friendship evergreen with frequent calls and emails. I treasure a picture from a reunion in 1975 when we discovered that Champagne cures wrinkles.