“Friennds. Friennds.”
Her soft, plaintive cry hardly penetrated the stillness of the morning. Five-year-old Amy stood at the end of the driveway and looked both ways. “Friennds. Friennds.”
Amy’s family had just moved to their new house. She had to leave all her friends behind but her parents assured Amy there would be new ones here. Mom and Dad stood by the front door, hearts wrenching as they heard little Amy’s voice.
Their confident assurance felt a bit hollow at the moment. Asking Amy to stay on the driveway, they retreated to the house to continue unpacking.
Every few minutes one of them went to the window to ensure Amy was okay. Her small frame standing alone on the driveway looked so lost in the expanse of the outdoors. Time passed quickly.
Mom’s next trip to the front window brought a gasp of surprise that took her breath away. She called Dad to come. There, playing on the driveway, was Amy with several other children. Tears spontaneously erupted as they gave thanks for what they were seeing.
Later, when Mom and Dad called Amy into the house, they asked her what happened. In her childhood wisdom, she thought the best way to get new friends was simply to ask for them. And they came.*
*A work colleague shared this true story with me years ago. Amy was his niece.
From simple to difficult.
Something happens as we ‘grow up’ and leave behind the simplicity of 5-year-old Amy’s method. A lot of adults feel like Amy standing alone at the end of a driveway but without knowing how to express that deep human need. We have forgotten how to add those extra n’s in a plaintive voice as we search for “Friends.”
Governments and agencies view loneliness as a growing mental health crisis across all age levels. To the point where countries like Japan and the United Kingdom have appointed a Minister of Loneliness. COVID-19 contributed to the need for those decisions. And, despite all our modern technology that provides more connections than ever before, people are experiencing even more isolation and human disconnection.
Who needs friends anyway?
The simple answer is: “Everyone!”
A legendary sitcom from the 1990s demonstrated core truths surrounding that one word. Friends was “one of the most popular and highest-grossing television shows of all time.” Its approach was simple, somewhat like Amy’s. Six actors became family, portraying genuine relationships with incredible chemistry.
The longevity of the original program, as well as succeeding offshoots, gives testimony to the credibility of the formula. Almost too simple, it worked to connect viewers to something that is innate within each one of us – the basic human need for friends and the joy of having them in our lives.
Friendships lost.
From a poem Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote to mourn the loss of a close friend, the passage of time has immortalized one line: “Tis better to have loved and lost / Than never to have loved at all.”
The trail of every human life will have times and places where a relationship has been lost, damaged or broken. Political upheavals and COVID-19 fractured many families and friendships. Countless people who had committed to be there for each other found themselves dealing with the shattered pieces of what once was or might have been.
I have some ambivalence regarding the famous line from Tennyson. Is it really better to have the memory of a lost love or close friendship? Was the experience of loss, and any learning gained from the pain, worth it? For many people, it must be so or Tennyson’s famous line would have receded into the archives of history. But for me it is more complicated.
What about me?
By nature I am not a very good friend.
Sure, l have learned a few things in recent years to honour and reciprocate the commitment a few individuals consistently gave me. And I have fought to restore a few long-term friendships that were attacked by COVID-related differences. I was just barely smart enough to realize that I had too few friendships to risk losing any. Yet such restoration activity doesn’t come naturally or easily. I usually cast the blame on being Ukrainian as well as deficiencies in my personality.
But looking back on my life, I also recognize a selfish element involved in such reticence and apparent self-satisfied detachment. I simply didn’t want to pay the price for development of a deeper relationship. Or I didn’t know how and wasn’t able to figure out how to find out how. These harsh truths have been woven as non-beneficial threads in some way through all of my relationships.
Now I am in a bit of a conundrum. I want to say that, in this late season of life, it is too late to start. But I just finished a reflection called It’s never too late . . .. It focuses on areas of life other than friendships but the premise is the same. So, If I intend to publish that one, I will have to keep trying to figure out this one at a more personal level.
What about you?
Friends. “Friennds.” What are your thoughts? How many n’s are you able (and willing) to put into the word?
Despite my default tendency to avoid anything that resembles more personal sharing, I would enjoy a coffee with you. Perhaps you are dealing with a similar challenge to the one I have described. Given my lack of qualifications to offer advice, I have no suggestions. We might just sit there and stare out the window together.
Oh, I guess I do have one suggestion. Instead of sitting in silence with me, why not take someone in your life circle to coffee and ask him/her what they think?