Friends to Die For

The greatest sweetener of human life is friendship. To raise this to the highest pitch of enjoyment is a secret which but few discover.
-Joseph Addison


I never would have imagined that a thirty-year friendship could begin in a church nursery between two toddlers. But it did. I was crawl­ing in and out of Mrs. Kolskey’s lap and playing around her feet when a mysterious new girl appeared in the doorway. From old photos I know that her hair was pulled back into two ponytails falling in ringlets to her shoulders. But in that first encounter, all I noticed was her luminous pair of magenta Mary Janes—the perfect shoes—exactly like mine. My shoes, you must understand, were an all-time favorite birthday present.

So here we were, two girls in deep pink shoes squealing in delight at our commonality. I had found a kindred spirit. Laura was indeed to become the best friend of my childhood, my bunk partner at summer camp, my college roommate, and the maid-of-honor at my wedding. Today, though she lives in Chicago and I’m in Seattle, not a week goes by without a conversation, and not a significant life experience with­out her support. Laura is truly a friend to die for.

I couldn’t have known at age five, of course, how precious this kind of friendship is and how rarely I would find it in my life. But most people do, in fact, find a kindred spirit or two. In fact, only seven percent of people say they don’t have someone in their circle of friends who, at any given time, they can rely on as a best friend.’

Actually, what most people call their “circle of friends” more closely resembles a triangle. Many people have contact with between 500 and 2,500 acquaintances each year, representing the base of the tri­angle. Then there are the 20 to 100 “core friends” in the middle. These we know by first name, and we see them somewhat regularly. At the top of the triangle are one to seven intimate friends. These people are closely involved in our lives, and their names are likely engraved on our hearts.

This chapter stands as a tribute to friendship and is dedicated to helping you raise your current relationships to their highest pitch of enjoyment and to building a firm foundation for prospective friends in your future. If a friendship is not built on healthy principles, after all, it will not weather the inevitable storms of life—the times you really need a friend. We begin, then, with laying out just what friends are for and how we can cultivate the kinds of friendships that matter most. Next, we explore the ins and outs of how good friendships are made, and then we point to a half dozen qual­ities you’ll need to consider if your friendships are to survive and thrive.

WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR

Short of torture, society’s worst punishment is solitary confine­ment. In the biblical creation story the Creator, having formed the first person, immediately declared our social character: “It is not good that man should be alone.” Most of us, most of the time, would rather be with anyone than be alone. And when we compare being with any­one to being with a good friend, there is no comparison. The reasons are endless. Seventeenth-century philosopher Francis Bacon noted two tremendously positive effects of friendship: “It redoubleth joys, and cut­teth griefs in half.” How true. Friends make the ordinary—running errands or eating lunch, for example—extraordinarily fun. And good friends ease our pain and lighten our heavy load. Bacon had it right, they double our joy and cut our grief. They also strengthen us, nurture us, and help us grow. And without our knowing, they can even save our lives. Literally.

There’s exciting news about having a kindred spirit these days. Not only are friends good for the soul but for the body as well.3 Friends help us ward off depression, boost our immune system, lower our cholesterol, increase the odds of surviving with coronary disease, and keep stress hor­mones in check. A half-dozen top medical studies now bear this out. Their findings didn’t seem to be influenced by other conditions or habits such as obesity, smoking, drinking, or exercise. The thing that mattered most was friends. What’s more, research is showing that you can extend your life expectancy by having the right kinds of friends.

Which brings us to a cen­tral issue. What are the “right kinds” of friends? What makes a friend “good”? We all know fair-weather friends are no good. These are the people who walk with us in the sunshine, but they are gone when darkness falls. “Wealth brings many friends,” noted one wise observer of life, “but a poor man’s friends desert him.” Overly engaged and emotionally needy friends who don’t know the meaning of reciprocity are also a downer. They take and take while we give and give, but we never see a return on our investment. On the other end of the friendship continuum is the know-it-all friend who mothers and smothers with unwanted advice but never asks for our input. In short, friends cannot be your family, they can’t be your project, they can’t be your psychiatrist. But they can be your friends, which is plenty.

Aristotle distinguished three types of friendship: “friendship based on utility,” such as eager, upbeat people in business cultivating each other to improve their bottom line; “friendship based on pleasure,” like young people interested in partying; and “perfect friendship.” The first two categories Aristotle calls “qualified and superficial” be­cause they are founded on flimsy circumstances. The last —which is based on admira­tion for another’s good character—is much more fulfilling, but also rare. After all, good friends “are few.”

The few good friends we enjoy generally come in one of two forms, both desirable and equally delightful. They are friends of the road and friends of the heart.

Friends of the Road

Dale was crazy. That’s why I liked him. He could always, I mean always make me laugh. Whether we were hanging out at the mall, play­ing pick-up basketball in a park, sitting in Sunday school, or giving seri­ous speeches in Mr. Olson’s civics class, a mere glance from Dale could slay me. On more than one occasion I was sent out of the room because I couldn’t regain my composure. Dale and I had more in common than hij inks and humor, however. We had countless conversations at all hours of the day and night about everything from pop music to cur­rent events to the meaning of life. We also had soul-searching talks about our fears, our futures, our relationships. This was no lightweight relationship. We saw each other through the Sturm und Drang of ado­lescence. Like two war veterans, we helped each other survive. At jour­ney’s end, however, the friendship faded. I haven’t seen Dale, my high­school confidant, since the day we graduated.

How does a once-bosom buddy wind up a distant memory? And is a friendship that fades away necessarily a bad thing? I don’t think so. There is a line in James Michener’s novel, Centennial, that speaks to how even good friendships can be fleeting: “He wished he could ride forever with these men ... hut it could not be. Trails end, and com­panies of men fall apart.”

Some friendships are meant to be transitory. Like cowboys who ride herd together for miles, sharing both dusty perils and round-the-campfire coffee, we all have friendships that come to their natural end. Not because of discontent or lack of interest. Simply because the road has run out. We’ve hit the end of the trail together and it’s time to move on to other things, other com­panies of men.

Understand, these are not failed friendships. Not at all. They are friendships of the road, equally intense, equally necessary, equally worth culti­vating and treasuring as the
long-lasting versions. We couldn’t survive without them. They get us through a particular stretch of road, and for that we can be grateful. Sure, I regret not staying in touch with Dale (photos of him still crack me up) and other friends who have shared a portion of my path. I even fantasize about reviving or repairing some bygone relationships. But with most long-lost friends I know I’d have little in common now. Our bond lies in the past, irretrievable except for the memories.

The friends we meet along life’s road make the journey joyful. And they are just as fulfilling as friendships of the heart. Well, almost.

Friends of the Heart

Greg. Jim. Monty. Kevin. Mark. Rich. These names sketch out my life, some since childhood. Together, they could tell you more about me than both my brothers. They are my best friends. They are the pals who know my mood swings and my family history. They’ve watched me soar and seen me fail. Unlike friends of the road, these guys have stayed with me beyond trail’s end. No matter how many months or miles intervene, the friendships endure. Our cumulative years of shared biography pre­serve our connection, propelling us together on the same path. After years of tireless talks we now speak in shorthand.

None of these friends lives near me now, but we rendezvous at weddings and while passing through each other’s towns on business. We plan reunions on occasion, and a few of us have recently shared vacations. Sporadic phone calls, as well as e-mail and a few cards or letters here and there, bridge the connection between tong lapses. We don’t keep up on daily details, but these friends know my headlines and I know theirs. We count on each other and we share an irresistible impulse to keep going, together.

There’s nothing like a friend of the heart, long-lasting pals who know us sometimes better than we know ourselves. They bring such comfort to our lives. It’s nearly inexpressible. Dinah Mutock, however, describes it pretty well: “Oh the comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are—chaff and grain together—certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

Of course, we don’t usually determine that a specific relationship will outlast the road. Some do, some don’t. That’s all, right? Not hardly. In ancient times, friends vowed to be friends forever, no matter what. Maybe you remember the biblical story of Jonathan and David and how they took an oath to be friends forever. “Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him.” From then on, when times turned treacherous and their relationship was tested in blood, they banked on one another.

Maybe it would help contemporary friendships stay together if we swore an oath at the beginning, but that’s not how most of us become friends. We are more likely to stumble into it by accident. We meet, look each other over, discover that we talk the same language, that we have common interests, and then ... fate takes over? Not if we gen­uinely care about the relationship. If we care, we commit. We don’t arrange a ceremony or make solemn vows. Most likely, the commit­ment gradually grows. We commit ourselves to each other, sometimes without even knowing it, in snippets over the long haul, until we find ourselves as committed friends. Looking back, we see we’ve made a thousand commitments, little ones, again and again, as we had occa­sion to make them. We never spoke a vow. We just grew into our com­mitment without thinking much about it. That’s the story of friend­ships of the heart.

With most friendships, new concerns and new faces gradually crowd out the old as we start a new journey. But not with committed friends. They don’t flicker and fade; they keep the light on. They are there for the duration and are as elemental to our being as blood to our heart.
Are friendships of the heart more important than our fleeting friends of the road? Not really. We need both. What matters is how a relationship sustains you right now. An achieved friendship—of any brand or bond—is among the best experiences life has to offer.


HOW WE FIND TRUE FRIENDS

Friendship is a long conversation. Indeed, the ability to generate good talk by the hour is the most promising indication, during the uncertain early stages, that a possible friendship will take hold.

The pressure to achieve “quality” communication, however, some­times induces a sort of inauthentic epiphany for overeager friends-to-be (not unlike what sometimes happens with an eager-to-please patient in the last ten minutes of a psychotherapy session). In the first few con­versations there may be an exaggeration of agreement, for example, as both parties attempt to connect (“You like sardines on your pizza?! Me too!”). And if authenticity does not enter in soon, the two parties form an uneasy kind of pseudo-friendship that creates more pretense than pleasure. Fortunately, even eager friends do not need to be caught and snagged by this subtle snare. With the proper techniques, they can break free of the pseudo-friendship and achieve true companionship.

The first important technique is to master the art of good talk. This requires just two simple tools. The first is a listening ear. Some people are especially skilled at opening others up. They readily elicit intimacy because they listen well. The late psychologist Carl Rogers called such people “growth-promoting” listeners: His years of research revealed that good listeners genuinely convey interest in understanding the other per­son, they accept the person’s feelings without interruption, and they empathize by trying to see the world from that person’s per­spective. These are the skills ofa good listener: genuineness, acceptance, and empathy.
Just the other night, a wo­man charmed me (Leslie) at a dinner party when she wanted to know all about my work at Seattle Pacific University. At first I thought she was simply offering the standard issue question, “So, what do you do?” required upon first meet­ings. But she wasn’t. With her follow-up comments and questions, it became apparent that she wasn’t interested in uneasy small talk, she was interested in me (“Sounds like you really enjoy working with students. How’d you catch a vision for that?”). She genuinely wanted to enter my world and understand my feelings; first-rate listeners have a way of doing that. I could have talked to her all night. In fact, I did.

The second tool for creating friendly conversation is self-disclo­sure. Weighed and measured in appropriate amounts, self-disclosure is the primary ingredient for potential friendship. In fact, no decent friend­ship can be made without it. Here’s how self-disclosure works. You spill something a hit private and chances are something intimate will get spilled hack on you. Vulnerability begets vulnerability. Social scientists call it the “disclosure reciprocity effect.”’ Whatever you call it, however, beware: It’s risky. If I reveal a part of me, my excitement, my insecu­rity, whatever, I open myself up to potential rejection. You may not accept what I disclose. You may belittle it or brush it off. If you do) noth­ing less than reciprocate my vulnerability, I feel slighted. But if you do share my secret, if you identify with me, we’ve struck the cord of friend­ship and are no longer alone.

C. S. Lewis wrote about the process of self-disclosure and friend­ship in his classic hook The Four Loves: “The typical _expression of open­ing Friendship would be something like, ‘What? You too? I thought I was the only one’—it is then that Friendship is born.”

Knowing when and how to talk about yourself is as important a skill as listening. No one really gets close to the kind of person who’s so careful about her image she never reveals anything intimate. You’ve got to) open up, but not too wide. In other words, if you reveal too much you’ll overwhelm the other person. Nobody appreciates a babbler mouth who unloads unedited memories that could interest only a mother. And one more caution about self-disclosing: don’t replace it with gossip and think you’ll accomplish the same thing. Everyone warms to the person who) tells tales on him or herself. But there’s noth­ing more repellent than the person who’s constantly telling you some horrible secret about someone else.


HOW WE KEEP TRUE FRIENDS

It’s one thing to start a friendship, it’s quite another to maintain it, to stay on what Lewis called “the same secret path.” Even strong friendships require watering or they shrivel up and blow away. That’s why George Bernard Shaw touched an exposed nerve in both of us when we read the words he scribbled to his friend Archibald Hender­son: “I have neglected you shockingly of late. This is because I have had to neglect everything that could be neglected without immediate ruin, and partly because you have passed into the circle of intimate friends whose feelings one never dreams of considering.”

It’s so easy to take good friends for granted. And in a sense, we should. Like a comfortable pair of gloves, old friends wear well. But friendships that suffer from busyness and over familiarity can’t afford to) be neglected too long. They need renewal. And to suggest that there are techniques for maintaining authentic relationships would be to devalue the dignity friendship deserves. Such a meaningful relationship cannot be reduced to “easy steps.” Research has revealed, however, the qualities that keep true friendship alive and well. So we offer a list of the most important qualities for your contemplation. Like Shaw, you may neglect your intimate friends from time to time, but if you fail to cultivate these qualities—loyalty, forgiveness, honesty, and dedica­tion—you can’t expect to keep true friends.

Loyalty

The quality that tops the list in survey after survey of what people appreciate most about their friends is loyalty. It seems nothing, but noth­ing, matters more than being true. Good friends keep their promises. They don’t tell your secrets to other people. And they don’t desert you, even when you are in trouble.

Harry Truman’s secretary of state, Dean Acheson, caused quite a stir when he visited his friend Alger Hiss in prison. Hiss was a convicted traitor, and it was bad politics to have any association with him. But when prudent politicians condemned Acheson publicly, Acheson sim­ply said, “A friend does not forsake a friend just because he is in jail.” That’s loyalty.

The famous maxim that “a friend in need is a friend indeed” is not the entire story of loyalty, however, A friend in triumph may be even harder to find. Isn’t it easier to be a savior than a cheerleader for our friends? It takes twenty-four-karat loyalty for a friend to soar along­side us when we are flying high rather than to bring us down to earth. Loyal friends not only lend a hand when you’re in need; they applaud your successes and cheer you on without envy when you prosper.

Forgiveness

As important as loyalty is, our friendships don’t always have it. Enter forgiveness. Every friend you’ll ever have will eventually disap­point you. Count on it. That doesn’t mean that every offense of a friend requires forgiveness; some slights need only be overlooked and forgot­ten. Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, understood this when she said, “Treat your friends as you do your pictures, and place them in their best light.”

Too many good relationships fade because some slight—real or imagined—cancels it out. Some people pout, brood, or blow tip if their friend is not speedy enough in returning a phone call or if they are not included in a social event. They set such high standards for the relationship that they’re constantly being disappointed. They can’t let little things go; every minor lapse becomes a betrayal.

Real betrayal, the kind that leaves you hanging out to dry, is another matter altogether, and we’ll get to that in the next chapter. At issue here is the idea of overlooking and, yes, sometimes forgiving the occasional pain that comes with friendship.

By the way, forgiveness is a two-way street. Unless you are a saint, you are bound to offend—intentionally or unintentionally—every friend deeply at least once in the course of time, and if the relation­ship survives it will be because your friend forgives. The friends we keep the longest are the friends who forgave us the most. And the essence of true friendship is knowing what to overlook.

Honesty

“Les, you can be so focused on achieving a goal,” a friend of mine recently told me, “that you sometimes lose sight of other people’s opin­ions and feelings in the process.” Ouch. That stung. But Steve was right. We were having lunch at our favorite coffee shop when he lowered the boom. Actually, Steve was looking out for my best interest. He cares about me and didn’t want me to get into a sticky situation with the members of a committee I was chairing. And it’s a good thing. His hon­esty saved my neck.

True friends are like that. Honesty is a prerequisite to their relationship. “Genuine friendship cannot exist where one of the parties is unwilling to hear the truth,” says Cicero, “and the other is equally indisposed to speak it.” Does this require brutal honesty? Not exactly. It requires honesty that is carefully dealt in the context of respect. In the absence of respect, you see, honesty is a lethal weapon. Perhaps that’s what caused Cicero to add, “Remove respect from friendship and you have taken away the most splendid ornament it possesses.

Honesty is not only expressed in words; it means being authen­tic. I have known people who become fast friends because they have so much in common. Their work, their wardrobes, their tastes, their background are all in sync. They become like twins who can finish each other’s thoughts, not to mention sentences. But the relationship is not real. One or both of them is so eager to have a kindred spirit that they become someone they aren’t just to get along. And the relationship becomes what Emerson called “a mush of concession.”

True friends aren’t afraid to be honest and they aren’t afraid to be themselves. True friends follow Emerson’s advice: “Better be a net­tle in the side of your friend than his echo.” Translation: If you are afraid of making enemies, you’ll never have true friends.

Dedication

It was 12:30 in the morning. We had just returned to our room after speaking to a group of students at a retreat center in the backwoods of Kentucky. A loud knocking broke the silence.

“Who could that he?” I wondered.

Leslie opened the door. “Monty Lobb!” she exclaimed. We couldn’t believe it. Our good college buddy living in Cincinnati had driven four hours—one way—and tracked us down without directions or an address.

“I knew I could find you,” he said with a big hear hug. “I heard you were near Wilmore, and I just had to see you.” He brought a boxed chocolate cake and a couple of plastic forks he’d picked up on his long drive. So we ate cake while we talked and laughed for about an hour and a half, Monty then had to leave. He was teaching Sunday school chit morning at his church hack in Cincinnati—another four hours on the road.

Few acts of friendship have spoken more loudly about personal dedication to us than what Monty did for our relationship. The bottom line? He made time. No, he sacrificed time to be with us. That’s the meaning dedication. It refers to the ability of two people to influence each other’s plans, thoughts, actions, and emotions.

Think about it. Back when you were a kid, the hours spent with friends were too numerous to count. Contem­porary life, with its tight schedules and crowded ap­pointment books, however, has forced most friendships into something requiring a good deal of intentionality and pursuit just to keep them going. Post­college friendships require setting aside an evening during which to squeeze in all your news and advice, confession and opinion. This inti­mate compress of information occurs only through dedication.

Of course, dedication becomes most salient in times of crisis. When a friend’s emotional bottoming out, for example, means canceling a date to provide a shoulder of support. That’s what friends are for, So don’t complain about having fair-weather friends if you are unwilling to be inconvenienced.

Personal sacrifice. Selfless devotion. Commitment. These are the noble qualities dedication requires.