A Friend in Need, Indeed.

Julia Staver was my very first “best friend.”  She lived on a farm close to my parents’ farm in Dauphin County.  One large farm divided our properties, but it didn’t separate us from becoming farm kids who would share lots of life’s adventures on our way to adulthood.

Julie, as I familiarly called her, lived back a long dirt road.  Her parents raised sheep, and had a large flock running on hills of green pasture.  My family farm was strictly beef cattle.  Despite my persistent imploring of my parents for the chance to raise a bottle lamb, no wooly additions were allowed on our farm.  One thing both Julie and I had in common was the love of horses.  I was envious when her folks bought Julie and her brothers a Shetland pony, the first of several equines to roam the pastures with their sheep.  Not too many years afterwards, my parents surprised my sister and me with a chestnut quarter horse, named Charlie by my mother.  Many childhood days were spent astride our trusty horses.

Julie and I were in the same grade school and enjoyed learning from the same teachers, having fun at recess, and getting involved in 4-H with other new friends.  We learned to sew from our 4-H leaders and our mothers.  I enjoyed visiting the Staver farm where gardening was a family affair.  Fresh vegetables and melons were served up, along with scintillating conversations about world events at their dinner table since both of Julie’s parents were involved in the field of education as well as farming.

I will never forget Julie’s early lessons in farm safety, as she cautioned me to “watch the ram” that was parading along the fence line, defending his pastoral territory.  While Julie was always an athlete and a fast runner, I was not certain I would be able to outrun this threatening sheep if he decided to chase me.  One unfortunate encounter with the ram’s thick skull taught me to never turn my back on the flock.  Despite the wind being knocked out of me and a bruise that would take weeks to fade, I was grateful for the helping hand Julie extended to me as I scrambled up off the ground and over the fence.

As we grew older, the paths Julie and I traveled became further apart.  She channeled her athletic abilities into girls’ field hockey and lacrosse, eventually earning a spot on the U.S. Olympic team.  We spent less time together in junior and senior high school, attending different classes and broadening our circle of friends.  College found Julie heading to the big city of Philadelphia to attend the University of Pennsylvania and study anthropology.  I headed west and earned an agricultural degree from Penn State.  We would see one another during summer vacations, and correspond infrequently by mail.  Staying in touch was sporadic, but our friendship didn’t disappear due to distance and changing directions in our lives.

I was happy to have Julie be part of my wedding day in 1975.  She visited in 1985 when my daughter Emilie was born.  Our busy lives did not allow much more than an annual greeting at the holidays after that.  Julie had decided to pursue a degree in veterinary science, married, had a daughter Sophia, and lives in the neighboring county.  She has been a long-time member of the veterinary practice we use for our farm, but she specializes in small animal work and spends most of her time in the clinic rather than on farms.  Our encounters are infrequent unless we have a canine emergency or our paths cross at Farm Show or Keystone International Livestock Show where Julie’s parents exhibit their Dorset sheep.

Three weeks ago, Julie saved my daughter’s Border Collie through her skills and caring talents.  I was confident that, if anyone could pull this dog through her life-threatening ordeal, it would be my friend.  And, once again, Julie’s helping hand was there.  While it may have been a routine emergency at the clinic, it was much more than that for my family and me.

My childhood best friend gave Emilie’s four-legged best friend another chance at life.  A friend in need, indeed … thanks, Jul.

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