“Wonder Twin powers, activate!!!”

My best friend, Bev, and I recited these words as we touched our plastic rings together. And then, without another breath, we went into a free-fall from her garage rafters.

And such have been our life stories.

A roller coaster of ups and downs.

The same dreams and determination that built our hidden garage fort cushioned us as we hit the cement floor.

Sisters of brothers.

Friends since toddlers.

There is little we don’t understand about the other.

Twinsies always, even when years have flown by, with us leading separate lives.

Vintage 1979 video of Bev & Sandy playing with their brothers in Sandy’s backyard.

The fall from the rafters happened in the late 70s. Bev and I were pre-adolescence. Our minds were full of wonder with an exterior toughened by our brothers. Both Bev and I were the only girls in our families. Living just a block from each other in our small town of Remsen, Iowa, our friendship began when our oldest brothers became best friends in kindergarten. Rich and Matt were five. Bev and I were three. As playdates were orchestrated with the boys, their sisters tagged along.

Our play in the 70s followed the seasons of the Midwest. Snowmen building and snowball fights with our brothers, Bev’s three and my two, filled our winter days. Summers included backyard sprinklers, many sleepovers, and playing at Beck Park, the town park adjacent to our childhood homes.

Along with our brothers, we once created games using large appliance boxes left by the alley trash. Somehow, we avoided injury sliding down grassy hills on sections of cut cardboard. But a game of ‘throw the rock’ while hiding under a box resulted in Rich coming out with a bloody head. We did not anticipate the stone's impact on a skull exposed through a box crack.

Fingers remained miraculously intact after setting off fireworks in glass pop bottles on the 4th of July. Only a few windows were broken with errant baseballs during backyard pick-up games. Our many bike rides to the mini-mart and swimming pool never included a helmet and rarely a chain guard. But we survived the 70s while having an amazingly fun childhood.

Being girls among boys, Bev and I learned to hold our own at a young age. The garage fort fail was our attempt at an adventure that excluded our brothers. Captivated by The Wonder Twins cartoon, we decided to make a secret fort in the elevated storage space in Bev’s old garage. We added small furniture and pillows, designating this space our secret hideout and vowing not to tell our brothers.

Our secret was short-lived. Within minutes of celebrating our Wonder Twin Powers, we realized the rafters were only strong enough to hold light storage. Two girls and furnishings tumbled quickly with more weight than the garage rafters could bear. Bev’s dad was not pleased when he discovered our hack job of a fix. Propping up the broken side of the rafters onto a ladder was a poor attempt to hide the evidence of our bad deed.

Remaining inseparable through most of our grade school years, Bev was the sister I never had. This came naturally to us as we shared our brothers. We also fought like sisters. Without the cushion of a common home with common parents who would force sibling reconciliation, sometimes our feuds would go on at length.

Once in middle school, Bev and I argued, and as trained by our brothers, a little shoving on the playground ensued. In a very untimely moment, I gave Bev a push into a puddle just as her dad passed the school on his way home for lunch.

A call to the school led to Bev and I going to the principal’s office. Our principal, Sister Nila, assured me all would be forgiven if I apologized to Bev. I refused, even with Sister’s ongoing pleading. Finally exasperated, she handed me the punishment of sitting in the hall for the day. A week later, Bev and I were best friends again, always on our terms.

High school brought us new opportunities and activities. As typical in a small town, we participated in almost everything offered in our early high school years. By our senior year, Bev excelled in volleyball while I focused on academics. We both received college scholarships for these endeavors, but the time dedicated to them led us to different social circles.

Even with paths ebbing and flowing into our senior year, we always found ourselves together as a fearless duo. Interchangeable as our brothers’ sisters, Bev and I spent a lot of time our senior year with her older brother, Rich, in our neighboring town, LeMars. He had moved there shortly after graduation.

Bev and I enjoyed finding new friends in LeMars, especially the new pool of boys. Our weekend time not only included ‘taking mains’ in Remsen but expanded to ‘shooting the loop’ in LeMars.

More often than not, Bev and I would find ourselves picking the same outfit style for our nights out together. This happened a lot and with no pre-planning. Although different in physical looks, we often matched in mannerisms and taste.

We chose to go to our senior prom free of dates, instead opting to have fun without the burden of a boy at our side. Bev bought her prom dress on a shopping trip to the nearest mall (40 miles away). I was gifted mine as a hand-me-down bridesmaid dress from an aunt.

We matched again, to Bev's and my surprise (and a bit of horror). White long dresses with baby pink ribbons were alike in all but exact style. Mine had a hoop skirt and layered ruffles off the shoulder. Bev’s had spaghetti straps. We showed up for prom pictures with matching wrist corsages bought for us by our mothers and small pearl necklaces, both coincidences.

Our dateless prom night was everything we had hoped. We danced the night away with our single classmates, leaving with the hems of our white dresses trailing in matching dirt.

The year was 1985, the first year our school hosted an After-Prom Party. Bev and I dutifully went to the late-night casino event, sipping Cokes. But with the sound of the midnight church bells, we were out the door and on to LeMars.

Our white dresses were thrown in the back seat of my Nova. With a quick change of clothes, Bev and I carefully reapplied mousse to the shaved hair above our ears, framing our heavily permed hair. Blaring “I Would Die 4 U” from my cassette player on that nine-mile drive to LeMars, we danced with the synchronized hand movements Prince had taught us in his MTV video.

Our version of ‘After the After-Prom Party’ included watching Footloose at the drive-in movie theater with our LeMars friends. Beer was the chosen beverage over Coca-Cola. We made it home safe and sound before our parents were awake for the morning.

Graduation day came with enthusiasm. We were ready to move on to our next adventure. As our classmates hugged and cried, Bev and I gleefully planned which grad parties to hit first.

We enjoyed every minute of that last summer together without knowing our paths would soon lead us far apart. We went our separate ways to college, with my parents moving to Arizona shortly after that.

Although Bev and I would meet over the years at class reunions, we had not spent one-on-one time together since the mid-80s. The reunions were always enjoyed with our classmates reminiscing about the past with little time to catch up on our current lives. Post-college, Bev’s career and family made Kentucky her home state. I spent 30 years in Nebraska, with a later move to Colorado

FaceBook kept us connected with shared photos and family milestones. When COVID hit, social media played a bigger role in our interactions. We found ourselves spending time on my sister-in-law Meg's live shows, where she moved her retail business during COVID. Bev and I eagerly participated. When Meg went live, showing us her fun products, we would virtually interact in the social media feed.

This led to more meaningful interactions with FaceTime calls and texts. Also came the realization that it had been a REALLY long time since we truly caught up on life. With the whirlwind of raising our kids behind us, empty-nesting provided us a little breathing room to plan time for ourselves.

P!nk gave us that opportunity. When her 2023 tour dates were announced, Bev, Meg, and I planned a girls’ weekend. Meg joined us for the concert, with Bev and I flying in early to capitalize on a long overdue sleepover.

Never dreaming in 1985 that our next sleepover would be 38 years later in Las Vegas, we embraced the time together. Choosing to stay in our room rather than gamble in the casinos, we stayed up until 5 a.m., talking nonstop.

Bev brought high school yearbooks for me to borrow and scan. I never received my junior and senior copies, so this was my first look. Into the night, we talked about the high school memories captured in the yearbook photos. Then, we covered our later missed years. Much had happened since 1985; trials and joys accumulated over 40ish years of living.

As with any proper sleepover, we slept in the next morning. After quick showers, we grabbed our purses and headed to the Vegas Strip.

With one look at each other, we laughed, realizing we were twins once again. Both dressed in navy summer dresses with flat brown sandals, there was no doubt we were just picking up where we left off.

The days and years may speed by at a record pace, but some things never change.

Epilogue: P!nk wonderfully entertained us with a perfect sleepover-weekend serenade.