Goddamn Crows Are Laughin'

CHIP OF WISDOM:

Proverbs 27, Verse 19

"A mirror reflects a man's face, but what he really is like is shown by the kind of friends he chooses."

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CHIPPED WISDOM:

Lion looks at Max and says, "Boy, some partner I picked."

Max replies, "You didn't pick me.  I picked you."

Sometimes you forget.  You know-- you forget which way it went.  Time does its thing and you forget things.  That's how it is, you know.  And, of course, in the end, does it really matter?  Who picked who-- who said what when and how.  The inflection, the silences, the good mornings that pass between.  Who picked up the check and who drove.  

It doesn't matter, I suppose.  Not all that much.

I've been very fortunate in my life as far as friends go.  I've lost many of them, but it's been a gentle loss, an easing away, like they're all out there together in some canoe and I'm standing there on the dock and I can see them and the water isn't really moving but they're sort of out there, just floating, floating listlessly away and it's so gradual you don't even really notice it and you wave, and they even wave back once in a while.  Once a year.  On your birthday.  They do the Facebook thing.  They Like pictures of your kids.  Facebook is the canoe.  I'm on the dock.

Good morning, my friends.

I'm in many people's canoes, too.  I don't just stand there on the dock.  Maybe I'm in your boat, out there on the water, occasionally waving back at you, or just sitting there, staring, waiting to re-enter your life.  And maybe that'll happen, because you run a successful theatre out in Des Moines and you're a doctor in Philly and you're a scientist of some kind and you're living in Israel and you're a lesbian and you're selling something to someone and you just had a baby and isn't life grand?  

Isn't life funny?  

But to return to that idea, briefly, of being fortunate-- well, I've been fortunate.  I guess that's all you need to know about that.

You know how you're anxious when it comes time for your girlfriend to meet your friends?  I never had that. My friends are the salt of the earth.  My friends are mature even when they're not.  My friends are intelligent and kind and gracious and, in their company, I am better.  Better behaved, even when I'm not, improved in spirit and outlook, honest, earnest and direct.  

What's scary is that I'm not too often around my friends anymore, so I wonder what I am without them.  Am I all of those things all or even some of the time?  How would I know?  

I'm always a bit surprised whenever I've made a friend.  The sensation of success isn't altogether familiar so, when the thing clicks, it's a bit jarring.  Like an airplane crash.  Like Hiroshima.  

But I suppose I'm getting used to it.  I was never friendless, and that's nice.  I don't really know what that feels like, to walk the earth with no one beside you.  That would be difficult, I think.  After all, a scarecrow needs crows.

Or at least another scarecrow.