Silver and Gold

A couple of nights ago I dreamed about long-time friends, J and E, with whom I’ve been out of touch for a while. It was a strange dream in which each greeted me formally with a handshake. Their faces were not familiar. Last night I received an email from our mutual friend, D, telling me that E had injured himself seriously yesterday, almost completely severing one of his feet. I am told that the surgery to repair this catastrophe went well. Tell me that the universe doesn’t try to let us know what we need to be paying attention to. A phone call and a couple of emails have me tending to matters of friendship, reminded of advice J gave me 20 years ago. The little song went something like this: “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, the other is gold.” Nostalgia from her college sorority days, perhaps? I don’t recall her saying.

Somehow this reminder of those who have been important to me in my past but with whom I’ve lost touch feels a little like not letting the sun go down on your anger (Ephesians 4:26—“Be angry and yet do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.”) If I’ve been angry about misplaced friendships, I have only myself to blame. Maybe I have just tried to tell myself that I don’t care so much when people go lost—be they friends or be they kin. I’ve had plenty to say about friendship along the way. I don’t use the word casually. Among those with whom I share no blood, I hold dearest the ones with whom I have a long history, and as I’ve said before, they are the ones who have seen the best and worst of what I offer. Thank God for friends, new and old and reacquainted, and for family, who if we are fortunate love us not only in spite of who we are but perhaps more importantly because of who we are. Now that I’m thinking about it, probably the person most likely to be your best friend is someone who values, truly honors, his or her family. If you know what I’m talking about, you are no doubt smiling and nodding your head.

Today I am reminded of the email conversation I had this past with winter with another old friend. I was concerned that I had done something to offend her because I hadn’t heard from her in months. So I sent her an email asking if I had somehow put our friendship in jeopardy. Her reply went something like, “absolutely not”. What she added in closing—“but then how would you know that I love you if I don’t tell you”—lies close to my heart. It is important that we not depend on others to assume an affection we feel but which we fail to put into words. One habit J has, a habit I know well from hearing her side of many phone conversations, she always closes, “I love you.” Borrowing from the pen of Mr. Lloyd Webber, “Love will never, never let you be the same”. I’ll add, be it the love of family or the love of friend.

Silver and Gold—Santa Fe, New Mexico (August 20, 2008)

R. Harold Hollis