It was the mid (roughly) 1990s. Long shorts, flannel shirts and long slightly unkempt hair was the order of the day.

I was barely old enough to drink, and I was looking for an apartment. Few, if any of us could afford an entire place on our own, we all had to hive-up.

A friend of mine had a friend who had an apartment, and he was in the market for a new roommate. We met up at a cheap local Mexican Restaurant. It was suitable for us. I look back at that place and shudder at how durable my digestion was back then. The two of us shot the breeze, had a couple-three beers and we decided we were okay enough with each other to live together.

Background checks? Please! First, only rich people had Home computers, much less, Home internet! Second, the internet screamed for a minute before connecting. And third, when it finally did connect, it ran at agonizing slow speeds. And no one could give you a phone call while you were online, unless you had a second phone line (yep, rich people!) Besides that, we’re Gen X! For about a five-year period our parents only had a vague idea of where any of us were at any given time. We follow our gut, and our guts felt pretty good about the other.

Over a quarter of a century later, that friend and his wife and kid, along with me and my wife and kids, along with a few other friends were all at a pizzeria enjoying lunch together. My friend was in the middle of a story when my youngest daughter tapped him on the shoulder and put out her hands for a hug. Without skipping a beat, while still telling his story, without even looking over at me, he gave her a hug and patted her on the back as she returned to the kid’s table. It was the most natural thing in the world for them.

As I witnessed that whole interaction, thoughts of how we all ended up at that pizzeria table hit me.

Skinny me, sitting across a table from skinny him, having beers, and soggy tacos, meeting for the first time. We didn’t have wives, or kids, one of us barely had a muffler hanging off of my piece of crap car. We had other friends, who became friends with each other, and over time, it ballooned into a mob, that somehow managed to remain together for…decades. Decades! Nearly thirty years later, and, including spouses, we still number close to thirty individuals, I’m actually considered one of the newbies! So much laughter, and weddings and kids (who are also growing up together) and parties, my circle of friends are all uniquely talented, curious, intelligent, and we’ve reached a stage in our lives where we all finish our visits with, “I Love You.”

People are supposed to move on, find new jobs, and new Homes. Somehow, we all managed to stick together—not just stick together, but grow closer. I marvel at what we all built.

Recently I was, again, sitting across a table, having a mid-week drink with that same old friend, my old roommate. We all still try to meet up for our mid-week beers, those nights just wrap up much earlier than they used to.

“How’s your Mom been doing?” I asked.

He took a long sip of his drink, “Dementia really, seriously, really sucks. As far as her mind goes,” he nodded sadly, “she’s been…hell…she’s been dead for a year. She doesn’t recognize me, she doesn’t recognize Dad. She recognizes no one. She’s gone. We’re all pretty much just waiting for the inevitable.”

There’s not much to be said to that. The comfort of company is typically the best remedy, if it can be called a remedy. I frowned, “Stephen’s Dad recently passed away.”

“Oh no. It was the cancer. Wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Four-year battle.” We talked for a few minutes about when the visitation was, how Steve’s been doing…

We both fell silent for a few minutes. He spoke, “We’re all getting up there! If we’re not in our lower fifties, we’re in our upper forties. The era of weddings is over, looks like we’re entering the era of funerals. It’ll start with our parents. There will be a lull, and it will start being us.”

I pondered our place in the cycle of life, all of us now living in what was once unimaginable times. These days, picturing us as senior citizens is (damn) not a stretch. I raised my pint, “To one of us attending the other’s funeral.” he tapped his glass to mine and we took our swigs. Oddly enough, that morbid toast brightened our moods.

Actually, that toast wasn’t so morbid, and our brightened moods made perfect sense. It was merely speaking the unspoken. We Love each other, we’re not leaving each other, we’re friends for life. It was a promise—you won’t be alone. It was a proclamation of Love.

A talk like this would have been unheard of back when we were several pounds lighter and unstoppable. Sentiments like that were simply not expressed. We were too busy enjoying nights we would barely remember with people we’ll never forget! We were too busy making memories. I honestly never imagined we’d be growing old together. But here we are, married, kids, burdened with school concerts, school fundraisers, our search histories include sexy things, like local plumbers and chiropractors.

Until the last couple of years, I never really thought very deeply about our friendships. We’ve always just been there for each other. It was practically assumed. Now, I’m realizing that we all actually worked at our friendships. There were times where I was furious with this man sitting at the patio table with me. I can guarantee he’s been ready to strangle me a few times too.

He means as much to me as my own brother. He’s one of my chosen brothers, but it started with him. I’m coming to realize that in this day and age, where divisions are actively being encouraged by the news, by politicians and other such zealots, that friendships are becoming rare and challenging. I follow a couple of dad forums on social media, and on a regular basis, I see a dad putting up a post where he is seeking other dads in his area. I quote, “I am looking to make friends”—not new friends, simply friends. Let that sink in.

And there I was, in the company of someone who would run a red light if it meant saving my life.

“Hey! Wait a minute. We were drinking when I said that.”

In Vino Veritas Buddy!

We are bombarded with advice on careers, on being the greatest spouse, on being the greatest parent, on planning for the future, on voting for the right politician because the other one is practically the antichrist. There are so many unsolicited “you shoulds” and “You need to’s”.

But I never see anything about friendship.

Friends, even the best of friends, have a necessarily tenuous grip on each other. That tenuous grip means you need to work at it. An unmaintained friendship is a dying friendship.

These are your people! Keep them! They are the ones that will help you navigate those rough waters of career, marriage and parenthood. They are the ones who give you unwanted but not unneeded truths. They are the ones to keep you inspired, to be better and do better.

They are the ones who will give you the quiet comfort of company.

These are people who are bound to you without the socially stated obligations of marriage or blood. They chose you, and you chose them, and there is nothing else but that choice keeping you together, nothing more is needed, except maintenance.

I do not hold onto my friends as tightly as I can…but then, no one holds their friendships as tightly as they can. And that’s a shame. I think working on this would be a better trend for the world than whatever is trending today. Your friend might someday be giving your eulogy. Make sure you give them the material for a good one!

There’s an Irish Blessing that has always appealed to me, “May your Home always be too small to hold all your friends.”

My friend and I started off in an undersized Home.

I suppose, I am still blessed with an undersized Home. It would be in all of our best interests to keep our Homes undersized.