The value of friendships

There is not much in this world more valuable than a true friend. Sure, we have acquaintances, co-workers, neighbors, distant family that live far away, and the occasional conversation with a total stranger. All have their place in our lives. But a friend, well that’s something special.

I will not deign to put a specific value on relationships we might treasure or shun. That is a task left to the individual to evaluate and re-evaluate throughout the course of a lifetime.

I will, however, suggest that even the most casual connection to another human being can be of significance to any one of us over the long term.

With Thanksgiving behind us and Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, and the Winter Solstice all coming up fast, perhaps this is a fine time of year to put some conscious thought into those things of great value that require no price tag. Friendships don’t come into our lives with an offer of gift cards, discount coupons, store credit, or easy one-day delivery. Yet, they matter.

To make a friend requires an open heart, an open mind, and a willingness to extend some level of kindness to another person with no guarantee of receiving a similar gift in return.

To keep a friend there is a minimum maintenance requirement that varies from person to person. Some of us talk or even physically interact with our friends on a daily or near daily basis. Others may go years without seeing or talking to each other. We may not communicate at all for a decade or more. Yet when that line of communication opens, or when that in-person visit occurs, the years melt away.

Connections are made, maintained, and appreciated over the long term thanks to a sense of commitment and common experience. Whether those experiences are as extreme as those encountered by soldiers in wartime or as casual as students who happen to attend the same school, a bond is established that lasts a lifetime…if we want it to.

A few examples from my own life follow. There are far more than will fit in this space, thank goodness.

Todd and I come from different parts of the country. Had we not attended the same flight school located in a part of the country neither of us hailed from, we never would have met. But we did. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors at school. Todd was a month or two ahead of me, which meant he completed his training and moved on before I did.

We stayed in touch even in the pre-Internet world. One night I spoke with him on the phone. I was a newly minted CFI working second shift as an electronic technician while I looked for a flying job during the day. Todd was newly hired at a small flight school more than a thousand miles away from where I was living.

“Hey, we’re looking to hire a CFI,” he told me.

That was the spark I was looking for.

I literally went downstairs, told my manager that I was going to be gone for a few days, drove home, packed a bag, and headed out with the intention of getting that CFI job — which I did.

It is not an exaggeration to say that my first flying job came my way as a result of a casual friendship. One I value to this day. That’s true even though Todd and I haven’t seen each other in person in nearly 30 years.

Brandon came into my life by total happenstance. Frankly, our first meeting was such a benign experience neither of us can remember how we came to know each other. But we do know each other. Brandon isn’t a pilot, but we have flown together. He’s taken the controls with an expression of joy on his face. However he’s on a different path than I am. Learning to fly appeals to him, but it is not a driving force in his life.

Yet, he knows how I feel about airplanes, and motorcycles, and music, and art. So, it was no surprise that he shot me a text from North Carolina at Thanksgiving to let me know he had stumbled onto an artist who crafted wire sculptures he thought I’d want to see.

He was right.

Richard Macklin has a way with strands of wire made of stainless steel, brass, and copper, even old clothes hangers. His P-51 and Mitsubishi Zero creations are stellar. With moveable landing gear and an electrically powered propeller the shapes of the aircraft are unmistakable and instantly identifiable, even though the sculpture is entirely created using a see-through wire frame.

Richard isn’t a friend — yet. That could change, I suspect. Drop me a message if your interest is piqued as mine has been. I’ll share Richard’s contact information. Perhaps you will find a new friend in the process, too.

As we consider the traditional gift-giving season, I would like to re-evaluate how I’ve been doing it all these years. Rather than sending tangible gifts of dubious value and questionable taste to friends and family who may or may not perceive these physical baubles and bangles as having any real worth, I think I’ll spend this season sharing an emotional connection with those who matter to me. Some are close, some are less so, but all the people in my circle of friends and family bring something worthwhile to my life.

So, to those I’ve spent time with, thank you for being a friend. Andrew Gold really had something there. I think his classic tune will become my new theme song.

I include you, dear reader, in this as well. I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read this far, to meditate on the concept, and to at least consider in some small way to join in and celebrate an appreciation of human connection this year over a quest for goods.

I wish the best for you and for myself — as we all should, far more often than we do.