What do I know for sure about friendship? That Gayle King is a friend I can count on. Twenty-five years ago this summer, I met my best friend, Gayle King. I was a news anchor at a station in Baltimore, she was a production assistant—each of us from groups that rarely interacted and certainly weren't friendly. From the day we met, Gayle made it known how proud she was that I had the exalted position of anchorwoman and how excited she was to be part of a team I was on. It has been that way ever since.

We didn't become friends right away—we were just two women respectful and supportive of each other's path. Then one night after a big snowstorm, Gayle couldn't get home so I invited her to stay at my place. Her biggest concern? Underwear. She was determined to drive 40 miles through a snowstorm to get to Chevy Chase, Maryland, where she lived with her mom, in order to have clean panties. "I have lots of clean underwear," I told her. "You can use mine, or we can go buy you some." Once I finally convinced her to come home with me, we stayed up the whole night talking. And with the exception of a few times during vacations spent out of the country, Gayle and I have talked every day since.