True Friending

An old acquaintance fondly reminisced on Facebook about the J-Bar Double C Ranch camp in Elbert, Colorado a rustic outpost where I also spent the summers of my pre-teen years. “I loved Ranch camp and laugh often about it with my pal, Deedee Pike, who raised hell there with me.  My favorite counselor was named Carol Chazden,” I commented. 

Another good friend of mine from high school, Joanie, saw the post, and sent me an email telling me that a woman named Carol Chazden belonged to her synagogue in Boulder, She wrote her an email, asking her if she was “the same Carol Chazden,” and copied me.

We heard back from Carol.  “What a trip down memory lane. Yes, I was a counselor at JCC Ranch camp for three summers, the best summers of my life.   And yes, Sue Zemel was one of my favorite campers. She and her buddy, I remember her as Robin Pike, was always full of fun and mischief.  In fact, I think I still have a pair of handcuffs that those two presented me, along with a sheriff’s badge for keeping them in line!”

We received a photograph of these artifacts from Chaz, and asked if we could give her a call since I happened to be in Boston visiting Deedee.  Chaz told us to phone her the next afternoon, but of course, always the rebels, we didn’t do as she requested, and called her in the morning before I flew back to San Francisco. 

Fifty years later, we all connected as if it was yesterday.  I recently had a similar reunion with another friend, Ellen, who was the first person I met in a bar the night I arrived in a small town in Wisconsin to attend college over 40 years ago.  We got together with another Beloit College pal, Maud, in Key West, and enjoyed every minute of our time together; I visited Ellen in Israel this April on a trip with my best friend, my wife, and we all laughed more than I’ve laughed in a long time.

I learned the value of friendship from my father.  He had friends from all phases of his life and maintained these relationships without the assistance of social media. Imagine that. He just picked up the phone and called Al Weiss, his childhood friend, or his college roommate, Bob Rottenberg, or his pal Shelly Pike (the father of my friend DeeDee), one of the first new friends he made when we moved to Denver in the mid-sixties. 

He listened, he made his friends laugh, and he always looked forward to seeing them. It didn’t matter if they lived next door, states apart, or hadn’t been together for days, months or even decades.  I watched him take care of his connections over the span of his life.  He really knew his friends and this knowing was reciprocal.  He conversed with his friends with openness and candor; he went deep and asked important questions. His exquisite sense of humor enveloped his relationships, bringing light and laughter to the challenges everyone faced. His curiosity and abiding interest in how his friends’ lives unfolded proved irresistible.  His friends loved him dearly and he loved his friends.

As we both grew older, my Dad and I established a bond that celebrated who we each were, our strengths, weaknesses, and our vulnerabilities -- our complexity.  He taught me to be fearless when peeling away the layers with a friend, remembering that the core is the core; once you truly know someone and love him or her, that core is both your place of departure and your place of return.

Full of fun and mischief.  Interestingly, my best friends have always been playful troublemakers. They have encouraged me, accompanied me out of my comfort zone, and rewarded my creativity with their laughter and support.  I feel seen by them and I think that they feel seen by me. I trust that I will always be able to re-engage with my friends, regardless of distance and time.  They occupy an enormous place in my heart.

As my dad's birthday approaches (he would be 90 on June 13) I am thinking a lot about him. I am so grateful for this gift of friendship that he modeled for me, and consider it one my life’s greatest blessings.