December 3, 2007 – Friendship has long been a difficult subject for me, rarely, I think written about, understood or discussed. Men in particular struggle with friendship. Few of them grew up seeing their fathers or brothers have close friends, and men tend to push friendships aside when they are pressured, distracted, even in trouble, when they could use a friend. Friendships in combat are well known, the stuff of movies, but when somebody isn’t shooting at us, or we aren’t hunting, real friendship is rare for most men.
   It surely has been rare for me. I had no close friends when I was a kid, I was booted out of two colleges and moved a bunch of places, picking up many experiences along the way, but few friends. I am in touch with few people in my life, apart from those I’ve known in recent years, especially since moving to the farm. Loneliness is a natural state for me, comforting sometimes, too comforting, perhaps a reason I love my dogs so much
  I understand my problems with friends are mostly of my own making. I am distractable, busy, scattered. I am definitely more comfortable alone, and I have problems with trust, I think.
  Since moving to the farm in 2003, one of the most striking characteristics of my life has been new and close friends, a new experience for me, and I have written about them here – Anthony, Maria, Mary, Bill, Becky, others.
  Why, I wonder sometimes, do I have friends here? What is different? The place, obviously. It’s necessary to have friends up here, as distances are great and you often need help, and things can get lonely.
  I wonder what it takes to make and keep a friend, and I suppose it’s trust as much as anything else. You have, at some point, to decide to have friends, be open to them, to let go of past experience, caution, disappointments, something it’s not easy to do. I think it takes years to make a good friend. I think women are better at it than men.
  Some people tell me their dogs are their best friends, and for me, that’s a temptation, but one I resist. My dogs work best when they lead me to people, not when they replace. Dependent creatures that can’t leave or talk to you can be wonderful, but not, to me, the same as friends.
   Friendships, I think, are not really mostly about big things but about small things – dinners in cozy taverns, walks in the woods, rides to stores and movies, animals and dogs, shared experience, weathering storms and cold, sharing pain and loss. They are about love and understanding, commitment and faith, loyalty and commitment. A friend told me that our friendship was Non-Negotiable, and that meant the world to me.
   I rarely did those things before, the things that build friendship, not with people outside of my family,  and now I do them with my friends, and I see each small thing as a deposit going into a kind of life account, building up over time to the point where affection, trust and support are a given, are understood. Are things you can count on, and not worry about. Even when you aren’t sure. Even when you’re embarrassed. Even when you’re afraid.
  It’s impossible to know precisely when that point comes, or when friendship takes hold, grips, and becomes something that is real, that can be counted on, despite problems, changes, tensions, confusions.
  I think you know you have a friend when someone challenges that friend, and you instinctively stick up for him or her, knowing they are good people. Or when you viscerally distrust something and decide to put your faith in your friend anyway, because deep down, you know he or she loves you and wouldn’t harm you.
  Or when you fight for a friend, or tell them something they really don’t want to hear, perhaps can’t even hear, and it would be easier to let go, and just mind your own business, but you can’t because abandonment of a friend is, to me, a betrayal that I could not forgive myself for. Sometimes a friendship is about hanging on, sometimes it’s about letting go. And the funny thing about friendship is that when these questions arise, there is nowhere to go. You have to sort it our for yourself, jump in, follow instincts. Friendships are beautiful, though sometimes quite powerful.
   I regret that I spent so many years without friends, rejoice in the fact that I have some now, care about them deeply and constantly, let them know it, and make sure I don’t forget the small things that our friendship is about. Mostly, I think, it’s about trust.
  I think if I’ve learned anything about friendship, it’s to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired, don’t take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.
  Most of us – all of us – are tested, again and again. All of us will stumble and fall, hide and shade truth, be distracted by our own self interest and the passions and temptations of the moment. When I stumble, which is often, I find one of my friends, and trust them. I have learned to be honest with them, to listen, to  share decisions with them, defeats and triumphs. I never had these kinds of friends before. Now, in many ways, they are all I have.
  It’s quite moving, this business of friendship, and works for me better than not having friends, and by far. I love my friends, and give thanks every day for them.