Whatever happened to those 4th-grade friends?
Why friendships matter even when they don't last
I turn 60 this week. Instead of lamenting how old I am, I decided at the beginning of this year to celebrate with a little throwback photo party on Instagram every Thursday. I dug through my photo archives from my life on the “0s” and the “5s” (the years I was 10, 15, 20, etc.) to find five photos that represent what was happening in my life at the time.
One of my favorites so far has been the photo from my 10th birthday party. I know it looks like Julie, the American Girl doll from the 70s, had her story turned into a live-action movie, but that’s actually me in the bedazzled, tie-dyed shirt and bell-bottom blue jeans with a flower patch.
My 10th birthday was the first time I was allowed to invite classmates to a party. You can tell by the gleam in my eye that I am absolutely thrilled to have a group of girlfriends of my very own. In fact, look how enthused we all were to be embarking on a social life of our very own.
Fourth grade had been a big year for friendships.
Two buddies in this photo, Mary Beth and Jackie, were Junior Girl Scouts with me, which was especially exciting because our troop went on camping trips. Since I didn’t have any sisters and my brother was four years younger than me, it was amazing to spend time with other girls my own age who I had something in common with.
Another friend in the photo, Rosemarie, lived on the other side of the public school playground two blocks from my house–close enough that I was occasionally allowed to walk myself over to her house for a playdate.
It would have made a very nice story if I could say I was still friends with these same girls five decades later. Alas, I cannot.
After fifth grade, my family moved from the city to the suburban frontier, so my fourth-grade friendships didn’t last.
Seeing my 10th birthday party photo and remembering how delighted I was at the time to be friends with these girls made me think about how many friendships we make over the course of a lifetime that fall by the wayside.
Much of the time, these friendships flame out not because of a falling-out, but because the circumstances that initially brought us together fade.
Sometimes you discover your interests weren’t as aligned as you thought they were. Before you know it, they’re no longer the first person you look to hang out with at recess or on a coffee break.
Sometimes friends end up in an outer circle of your orbit where you just don’t interact as often anymore.
Other times one of you moves–to a different town or a different company–and you lose touch. (By the time you’re reminiscing about that party decades later, you might not be entirely sure that you remember their names.)
The pattern of waning friendships doesn’t end after childhood. Adults go on to make work friends or parent friends or neighborhood friends that we don’t manage to keep in touch with as much as we would like after our proximity changes for one reason or another.
It’s not a failure on anybody’s part. It’s just how life goes. We’re all just passing through, lucky to find buddies to keep us company for a while.
As spiritual teacher Ram Dass once said, “We’re all just walking each other home.” Maybe that’s the best way to think about the ebb and flow of the friendships that come along as we journey through life.
Just because a friendship isn’t forever, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t meaningful.
After I racked my brain to remember the names of my 10th birthday party attendees, I did what any curious mind does in 2026–surfed the internet to see what happened to my old friends.
I was startled and saddened to discover that one of my 4th-grade friends, Rosemarie, had died a few years ago. She was only 53.
It’s always unsettling to learn that someone the same age as you has died. It reinforced something that my dad observed after my mom passed–it all goes by faster than you think.
My mom made it to 83–the type of lifespan that seems long when you’re in your 20s or 30s. However, when you’re rounding the bend of 60, your perspective is a little different.
Since my mom died, I’ve had a new watchword: “If not now, then when?” Rosemarie’s untimely passing was a reminder of why that’s a good watchword.
Rest in peace, Rosemarie.
If you’d like to join my weekly Throwback Thursday party to see what else I discover in my photo archives, follow me on Instagram.