Old Friends, Bookends

Regular readers know that since Covid, I have been participating on twice monthly calls with a rotating set of old friends.

We meet via Zoom every other Wednesday evening to spend an hour or two with people we have known for 50 plus years.

What started as a way to cope with the pandemic, has turned into an important ritual for a set of guys who grew up on Eastern Long Island in the 70s and 80s. We are now in our 60s.

A recent call had a smaller than usual contingent of participants. It’s the holidays—people travel for business and have busy social calendars. But in 5 years of wonderful, fun, lively and enjoyable conversations, this call may have been at or near the top. At least it was for me.

I won’t betray the confidence of my buddies and disclose the contents of the conversation, but it was deep and special in a way that you can only find with people you know and trust for a long time.

It ended with a discussion about friendship itself, the loneliness epidemic in America and how our kids’ experiences have been so different from ours.

We concluded that we grew up in a golden age. We weren’t captured by screens, algorithms, smart phones, social media and endless distractions designed to keep us swiping, clicking, viewing and scrolling.

We played video games—Pacman, Super Mario Bros—but we were together in arcades with other kids fishing for quarters in our Levis before heading outside to shoot hoops or play stickball.

It sounds trite, but if you could hit a Spalding (and if you have to ask what a Spalding is, I can’t help you) over the Linger’s house across the street you felt like Babe Ruth. It didn’t hurt that when you went to retrieve the ball –if you were lucky—you might run into one of the Linger sisters—always a treat.

Ahhh memories.

Anyway, we know that what we have is rare and precious. Americans—especially men, especially young men are lonely. There is a brand new #1 best selling book on the subject by Scott Galloway, a popular podcaster and NYU marketing professor.

The book, “Notes on Being A Man” is a treatise on everything ailing young men: suicide, depression, lack of purpose, disengagement.

The stats are stark and dark:

Young men are 4x as likely to die by suicide, 3x more likely to suffer an addiction or homelessness, 12x more likely to be incarcerated and men are dropping out of college at higher rates creating a 33:66 male/female grad ratio. On the social front, the news is also grim.

Here’s a stunner: 45 percent of 18-25 year -olds have never approached a woman in person. Wow.

People need purpose, relationships and mentors, Galloway posits. And today, they are lacking all three.

My generation had all three.

We believed dreams were possible, we had friendships and many of us had career and life mentors who changed our lives.

My friends on the call agreed that we grew up during a magical time in a magical place. Of course, it wasn’t all laughs. There were heartbreaks, there were family issues, there were friendships that didn’t last and career hurdles we didn’t see coming. Two of our friends jumped into pools senior year and broke their necks. One survived, one didn’t.

When I talk to these guys, I see two faces on the Zoom call. I see my friends at their present age, with thinning hair (or no hair) and I still see the kids I hung out with. They were good athletes, funny, smart and very Long Island. I mean we went at each other in a particular way that is hard to explain unless you were there. We looked for any and all openings and we pounced. I think it toughened us up. But we knew it was all good fun. We knew, then and now, that we were the guys who had each other’s backs no matter what.

I never felt alone. Ever.

Still, after this call I became curious as to why we’ve been able to maintain these relationships through the decades, through the miles and the fact that we don’t see each other for years at a time. I mean we haven’t been a part of each other’s daily routines since 1982.

I asked the guys on the call for their thoughts. Why us? How did this last?

I’m not sure we know.

The guys grew up to be amazing men. Great dads, husbands, in short it’s a band of mensches. I’m proud of these guys—everyone one of them. Well, most of them. Sorry I couldn’t resist.

Sure, we have a lot in common, we do share a common history. We know each other’s families, we know about old girlfriends, favorite teachers and we had a lot of memorable adventures. All that helps, but I’m not sure it fully explains the magic of enduring friendship.

Some guys rotate in and out—but they are always welcomed back. And they know that they can call any of us in the wee hours and we would move mountains to be there with whatever was needed.

I’m doubly blessed, because I have my old buddies and I’ve made incredible friends who I can see on a regular basis.

The night after our call, I went to Hyde Park in Atlantic Crossing, with two of those guys Randy and Scott. We sat in this lovely restaurant and thoroughly enjoyed the company and the conversation. Of course, I told them about “the call” and asked them what they thought the secret sauce was to old friendships that last.

They had an answer, and it made some sense.

We went through ‘The Wonder Years’ together, the “new” friends opined. That means a lot.

The Wonder Years, once a great TV show, has become a term that describes the sheer magic of growing up. A time of discovery, adventure, fun, goofiness, innocence, curiosity and coming of age joy.

I shared my wonder years with these great guys who are now scattered throughout America. We developed a bond—dreaming of the future while having a great time growing up and goofing off.

From the 70s to the 2020s, they’ve been a constant. We are in it, happily, for the duration. And I’m thankful. I also realize that these too are wonder years and I treasure every moment.