The Most Precious Thing in the World 


A reflection about friendship. 

I'm going to begin to do something in this blog from time to time that is very risky and very scary. I am going to describe and discuss those people who are my friends. Well . . . let's say I'm going to try out a couple of guest appearances, check carefully to be sure they are still counting me as THEIR friend, and proceed thus with caution.

It's a risky thing in itself to put your own thoughts and feelings out for all the world to see, (Hence the pugilistic title of this blog, which implies that if you find me boring, you must be an idiot. You didn't try hard enough.) But all joking aside, that's still just defensive posturing against the all too strong possibility that I AM boring.) It's still riskier to propose to describe your friends for all the world to see. Why would I take the chance?

From time to time in my life, I have made the point that every new friendship that I make seems to bring out a different side of me that I really never knew was there. New possibilities actualize.

Sometimes the change can take thirty years, like the fact that Rosanda finally convinced me to watch baseball with a vengeance. Most of my life, baseball has put me to sleep. But, surrounded by fans, I would say to myself, "Look, your an intelligent adult. You made it through the educational system. That was totally boring. You taught for thirty three years. Surely you can bring yourself to learn a few rules." And the scenery is good. But then I would look at the TV screen and instantly my mind would fill up with totally unrelated information, like the grocery list, or why did the woman across the street always frown when she saw me coming. But then last year I stood in the original olympic stadium in Greece and gained a new respect for games of a national or international scope. So when the Cards made it to the playoffs this year (well, they thought they had the series in the bag!) I watched every game with determination. But it was definitely Rosanda and the Greeks that shaped me in a new direction.

Sometimes, the change can grow very rapidly, like the time I took an art class with Stephen and his daughter Stephanie, and discovered that I really could draw. That was funny. The teacher had an interesting approach. He gave us a topic (like charcoal sketches, or line drawings) and then sent us off to experiment. At the end of the class, he had everybody show off their drawings. Then each person in turn was given a chance to identify their favorite drawing done by someone else in the class. Weeks went by and no one ever said anything about what I had done. And, my feelings weren't even hurt, because I thought I was a terrible artists. This was just a family thing that I had to endure. But then the instructor introduced pointillism. That is the art form where you compose a picture of dots. I took my felt tip pen and my pad and went to the Mesoamerican display in the basement of the Art Museum. There was a cute little dog, very like a chihuahua. I dotted away, and much to my surprise, this adorable little pup emerged from the canvas. AND lots of people said to me at the end of that class, "I love your little dog," or "He is so cute!" But the point is, it was Stephanie's interest in art that got me to this place.

Other times, the change is instantaneous, like my friendship with my professor friend Rick. Twenty years ago I was attending a dinner of faculty, staff and students from my university and its sister school at a Chinese restaurant. It was a special interest group, the kind is not important for this example. But Rick had missed the afternoon meetings and bounced into the restaurant about half way through the meal. I had never laid eyes on him before, but—odd for me, because I develop into friendship slowly and cautiously—I just immediately became his friend. He was all dressed up in flashy sport coat, shirt and tie, but Rick, the bigger than life person, was fairly bursting out of that suit. It could not contain him. He walked in standing perfectly erect, he smiled, in fact, he beamed, and just integrated right into those assembled at the dinner. And even though I never laid any plans, I knew in my heart that we would be good friends. And thus it has been.

I really never forget anyone I have been friends with. I treasure my friendships. My friends are everywhere, Oregon, California, New Mexico, Wisconsin, Florida, Ohio, Nevada, Louisiana, Kansas, South Carolina, Massachusetts, Sweden, France, Belgium, Germany, and last but not least, Illinois and Missouri. Once your my friend, you are in my heart to stay.

There are a few people out there who will tell you that this is bullshit. They will tell you that I betrayed them, disappointed them, let them down. I could tell you these stories, too. I did let someone down. I did betray someone. I did disappoint someone (my dad, for example). So I was weak. Or maybe it was necessary for my own evolution. But I can tell you this much. These people are not everywhere. Either they're dead now, or they're all in Missouri. Maybe a couple in California.

To my former friends and my present friends I say, "You are the most precious thing in the world." I love you.  

Posted: Sun - October 23, 2005 at 11:45 AM          

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