I know I bring this up now and again, but I thought about
who are the people you talk to everyday. The ones you confide in. The ones you
listen to when they give advice. The ones who are comfortable enough with to
just hang around.
When you live alone and only travel to the store and home
again you don’t have many friends. I begin to understand what happened 25 years
ago.
The morning friends were Matt and Al and Katie then Meredith
and then Anne. They were in the kitchen first thing every morning. They joked
around and felt like family. Their conversations started the day and attracted
more of the attention over coffee and oatmeal.
I would go to work, but other friends entered the house.
First there was Whoppie, Joy, Elizabeth, Sherri and Barbara. They would just
sit around and gab away. If I weren’t going to work, these guys would force me
out of the house. I couldn’t stand it.
The news guys followed with breaking news, weather, traffic
and usually something cute. They all came in on the same channel, but now it
was time for a change.
Oops! I think I gave it away.
“All My Children”, “One Life To Live”, and a daily passion
“General Hospital” took care of the afternoon. I would hear every night the
escapades of the riches families as if they had been in the living room. Ericka
would do this or that and Luke and Laura did something else. The tales were
just like a recap of a day but a day with strangers.
They were strangers to me but they were friends to her.
After dinner we would sit back and relax with our friends
Hawkeye and Trapper and Radar and Quincy and Fraser and Niles and Rachel,
Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler, Ross and even Buffy, but by that time I was
ready for sleep.
Over the years as some of our friends left and we didn’t
make friends with reality or hook up or singing and dancing shows, the past
history recordings came to become a library.
While everyone else was building families and forming new
friends, our friends came and went with the seasons. Work never presented
anyone to spend time with and everyone else who had been bonded with moved
away, so these were our friends.
Today my friends are Rachael and Brian and Jim and Jeffrey
and Gwen and Hari and Ray and Margaret and Judy and Mark and Michael. On
weekends, I don’t remember their names but they wear strange uniforms.
Online there are other friends of which some I know and
some I only observe like looking through a window or listen through a wall. Sometimes
I comment and sometimes they respond. It is a very awkward conversation, like
waiting for a letter in the mail.
My friends today are very similar to her friends from the
past. They don’t talk back. Much of their conversation I don’t have to listen
to but am comforted by their background noise. I can turn down the sound and
make up what they are saying and then laugh. Then I can turn them off.
I know they will be there tomorrow. Looking at me behind
the glass. The same pleasant smiles and non-evasive remarks are always
available. The location may change but I’m guaranteed I will learn something
new. They may show me how to cook or take me to distant places or introduce
interesting people or ideas. If I don’t like what they are doing I can change
their presents with a click of a button. How many times at a party have you
ever wanted to do that?
The real friends, those who visit me daily, mostly like
hobos seeking free food are the critter crew. Offering a fairly quiet and
protected area, they return every day to consume their daily buffet and reward me
with their antics of amazement and sing sweet wakeup songs not found on
ringtones.
Some day I’ll record some of these strange conversations I
have with my feathered and furry friends. When the neighbors hear me they run
inside, but these guys seem to understand my crazy talk.
Note: The image above was some friends from junior high
school. I have no ideas who they are.
2 comments:
Hmmm, well my TV is often on, but I have no friends there...
Touching, Cliff. I've always been something of a loner and have a pretty narrow social life, so I get what you're saying. Nice piece of writing.
David M.
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