LIFELONG PALS Shirley Gooderham and Edna Leschyschyn in 1948 (inset) and 60 years later in 2007 "Friendship" can be looked up in the dictionary. Webster's calls it "a relationship of affection and mutual goodwill."

But it comes in a number of levels. There are friendships of convenience, such as between political parties in a minoritygovernment situation, which cater to the respective parties' self-interest.

Then again, there are friendships that just are ... and last a long, long time.

Edna Leschyschyn and Shirley Gooderham share a bond that dates back 60 years, and to listen them chat is to take in a history of Orangeville, as told by two ordinary folks who lived it.

The Orangeville Citizen was first introduced to this indefatigable duo when two photos appeared at the paper's front desk. One photo was six decades older than the other, showing the same two people on the steps of a railway coach.

Shirley's now 77, and Edna 65.

The Gooderhams and the Leschyschyns were "just like one family," recalls Shirley. Their mothers met in 1928 and were both responsible for large broods. Edna hails from a family of three boys and three girls. Shirley's family had nine girls and three boys.

"There was no birth control back then," smiles Edna. "It was pot luck."

Still, the long, and seemingly endless, chore of raising a family didn't stop the two moms from dropping in on each other frequently. These impromptu hook-ups are something that doesn't occur enough these days, say both Edna and Shirley.

"Now, it seems like you have to phone and make an appointment if you want to see anybody," says Edna. "Back then, you would just drop in for a visit."

"I think TV brought an end to all that," figures Shirley. "You can go into a restaurant and there's no one there you know. You meet people and find they have lived here for 27 years, yet you've never met them before."

In 1948, when the first photo was taken, there were about 4,000 people in Orangeville. There were frequent floods on Mill Street in the spring, and the favourite hangout of the day was a swimming hole by the bridge on John Street.

The Century Restaurant and the Three Star Inn vied for the business of the teenagers as they returned, with their dates, from the Orangeville Drive-in theatre out near the fairgrounds. Both the restaurants and the drive-in are long gone, the former replaced by fastfood outlets and the drive-in site is close to today's Galaxy Cinema.

Back then was an era when locals would often play a few roles in the community.

Edna remembers being in a motorcycle accident when she was 15. Bob Stewart was the ambulance attendant who came to help, and he also ran the garage on Broadway where the bike was taken in for repair.

Then as now, the social event of late summer was the Orangeville Fall Fair, which was then held on a Wednesday afternoon. Heavily influenced by the agricultural sector, stores stayed open on Saturday night to accommodate the farmers coming into town. So, on Wednesday afternoons, the stores shut down to compensate.

Dodds Knitting Mill on Mill Street, the two recall, was the town's major employer at the time.

Life wasn't always idyllic in those days. There were tragedies; the milkman and his helper son both died when their truck crashed, and the two Bessie brothers were suddenly gone after being struck by a train.

A train was also involved when Edna got into trouble (something, she claims, rarely happened). She and a friend were making the trip to Alton. When it appeared the train wasn't going to stop at Alton station, she yanked on the emergency brake chord. "Drinks, dishes and napkins were flying all over the place," she recalls.

Shirley also claims to rarely, if ever being troublesome. (This reporter regards both claims with a degree of suspicion). In fact, the only time she can remember being in trouble was when she was scolded for taking around the collection plate at Tweedsmuir Church in her stocking feet.

On further interrogation, the truth comes out. Shirley was a red-haired, freckled kid and often taunted because of it. Yet, when she was referred to as "red-headed woodpecker," those sweet hands that carried the collection plate would curl up into a nasty set of dukes and several neighbourhood kids were not inclined to call her that name a second time.

After she had put the big mouths in their place, Shirley McDonald had the time to be swept off her feet by a strapping lad named Walter Gooderham and his Model A Ford.

They were married and had daughter Valerie and son Jeffrey.

Edna Snell, meanwhile, fell in with a fella named Peter Leschysyn, who wished to wed her and take her back home to Western Canada. No dice. "Don't ask me to move out west," says Edna to this day. "Back then, I wouldn't even consider moving to Caledon."

The two had three sons; Brian, Steven and David.

And through it all, Shirley and Edna have remained fast friends.

How come?

"We're not nuisances to each other," says Edna. "We're not sitting on each other's doorsteps all the time.

"But we know when we need to talk."