The Greatest Gift

Thanksgiving thoughts…

Aside from family, I find myself most thankful for friends.

I’m just back from Orlando where I met a half dozen friends for a reunion weekend. All but one of us turned 60 this year, the lone exception being Dave who is 59 and skipped a grade.

We don’t hold his youthful inexperience against him.

I’ve known Scott, Dewey, Ben, Howie, Joe and Dave for 50 plus years. We were boys when we met.  We’ve gone through every stage of our lives together.

It’s been 40 plus years since we last saw each other daily. We live far away from one another in places like California, Wisconsin, North Carolina, New York and the great state of New Jersey.

There have been marriages and kids, career changes, triumphs and losses. We’ve seen a lot together and apart.

When I looked around the dinner table where we gathered to share wine and stories, I thought of all the places we’ve been, all the things we’ve accomplished, who we’ve become and how we got here.

Combined we have traveled the world, been awarded patents, started, bought and sold businesses, raised kids, stared down bullies and took some crazy risks and luckily lived to share some cautionary tales. We have a great many stories…we are each other’s memories able to fill in gaps that otherwise would be lost to so many days gone by.

Favorite teachers, girlfriends who broke our hearts, dreams we chased, music we enjoyed, bars we frequented, parents and friends we’ve lost.

These days we are talking about off-ramps. When and if we can retire, how we worry about our children’s futures, how much we love them and how different they are from us at a similar age.

We’ve been getting together for these reunions for a while now. But this one felt different, more settled, more joyful and more appreciative. We know how special this is, we know how fragile too.

Most of the time our affection for each other has gone unsaid. We are guys after all. But this time we acknowledged how meaningful these friendships have been. This time we talked about how much we are thankful for this brotherhood we share. We are each other’s collective memories, we have each other’s backs, these are the men we can call in the middle of the night and know they would be on the next flight out.

Yes, these are my brothers. We will be there for each other until the end.

There’s comfort in that thought.

So much of life is impermanent. It’s a fast-paced world. It’s nice to know that at least one thing won’t change—our friendship. And when we leave this world, that won’t change either.

We managed to stay in touch through the years, but our friendship got tighter during the pandemic when Dave organized bi-weekly “Zoom happy hours” that continue today.

The early calls focused on the glory days and whatever happened to so and so, but eventually it morphed into discussions of current events, politics, sports, careers and family.

When I see these guys, I can still see the boys I met in 1970s Long Island. But I also see the men they’ve become and when I listen to them opine on the great issues of our time, I feel a sense of pride.

These are intelligent and thoughtful men. These are good people. I’m proud of them— in so many ways.

And then someone will tell a gross joke and for a moment I’m 16 again excited about my rusty old Mustang, hanging out with my buddies in Ben’s kitchen sharing New York style pizza and thinking about the next good time. The road and the possibilities seemed endless in those days.  It was all ahead of us….

I’m fortunate, I’ve made lots of friends over the years. I’m in touch with college buddies and met them for dinner a few months back on Atlantic Avenue. I kept up with a few old work colleagues and made lots of friends in and around Delray.

I love them all.

I’ve also lost a few friends over the years and drifted from others too. It happens, I suppose. But I’ve been lucky in this part of my life. I’m thankful for special people.

I know there’s a crisis of loneliness in America. The Surgeon General has labeled loneliness a public health issue.

There’s a lack of community these days. I’ve seen the change in Delray, which used to be a more social place.

But I don’t think we’re an anomaly.

These days we are lost in our phones, struggling to make ends meet, caring for our children and our parents, hustling to keep our heads above water.

It can be exhausting. But we find renewal in friendship. We are energized by the intimacy and the closeness of our best relationships.

So, I’m grateful for these moments with friends. The calls, the texts, the infrequent in-person reunions, the occasional meetups over lunch at Papas Tapas, Granger’s and Wood & Fire. This is what makes us rich.

This holiday season I hope you’ll connect with friends and family.

Maybe seek out an old buddy or two.

As I think about this last reunion, I have a few parting thoughts.

First, I cherished every moment of our time together. I felt present, not distracted.

We are getting older, we’ve had a few close calls, we’ve all lost parents, a few siblings and people we went to school with.

We are thankful for what we have. (Even the sophomoric insults have charm when you’re not sure when you will see each other next).

When we were kids, my buddy Scott and I talked endlessly about the future.

One time, or maybe more, I put on an old Simon & Garfunkel album that featured the song “Old Friends.”

The song imagines two old pals sitting on a park bench.

Old friends sitting on a park bench like bookends, their memories brushing the same years.

They note how strange it is to be 70.

I told Scott when we were teenagers that someday that would be the two of us. We would meet on that proverbial park bench and reminisce.

We are a decade away.

It’s getting closer and closer.

That notion once seemed so far away, but now it’s almost here. I can see the bench.

And I’m thankful that we may just get there—together. All of us.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.