Old Friends

A few years ago, I realized it would be wise for me to expand my circle of friends to include young people. Some of my closest friends range 15-25 years my senior, which puts them on the "likely to die before me" end of the spectrum. So, I opened to peppering my friend pool with youth.

This notion dawned on me just before Mark and I spent a week rafting, with a group of strangers, through the Grand Canyon. Our last evening, the winds kicked up in camp (as they often did), threatening to blow tents and life preservers into the mighty Colorado. Mark, ever the diligent partner, started trekking from the beach to our personal camp location to help me secure our temporary domicile and belongings. A few steps into his journey, the wind grabbed a random cot for a vertical flying mission, and cold-clocked Mark in the head, knocking him unconscious.

The result of this accident included, a concussion, serious facial bruising, and a whopping dose of gratitude for the "just-married" couple we'd become friends with during our eight day trip. These lovely ladies (Heidi and Sofia) kept an eye on Mark when I retrieved more ice and aspirin; helped to break down our camp the next day; prepared our bagged lunch; and stood with us as we navigated this dilemma in the wilderness. Others chipped in, too, and while I appreciated every bit of support, the newlyweds - who'd won our hearts over the week - stepped up to the plate in style.

It didn't start that way, though. Our first afternoon of making camp, Mark scouted out a spot for our tent, and a different young couple - also newlyweds - set up right across from us. I had my eye on them as potential friends; they seemed fun, and lived in the Boston area. Moments later, these two young women deposited their gear and camped SO close to us, they might as well have slept in our tent! I was seriously miffed by the space encroachment. I already knew that one of my biggest challenges of the trip might be living with 40+ strangers, and now two of them were practically in my back pocket...uggh!

While most everyone else went for a hike, I elected to stay in camp to read, meditate, and drained from the intense heat of the day, take a short nap. When I woke up, the couple I'd hoped to befriend, had packed their camp and moved. In response to the open space, our two invasive neighbors had dragged a cot - that they used as a table - and two chairs into that camp spot to play some sort of game. They now had us surrounded, and, upon waking, one of them made some snarky comment about my nap. Oh good grief...a whole week of this...what had I been thinking?

Our river guides manned two large motorized rafts. Of the two guides, Jeff was the trip leader, and we started our voyage in his boat. He'd been down the river countless times, possessed burnished leather skin, was very knowledgeable, and seemed to suffer from "end-of-seasonitis," despite the fact that it was only July!

On day two, we mixed things up and tried Ted's boat. Ted appeared to be a rangy surfer-dude type, with sleepy eyes, long hair, and scruff on his chin. Despite his devil may care appearance, he was a superior river guide! He shared data about the geological morphings we witnessed; recited stories about those who navigated the Colorado and the people who once occupied the lands; and read aloud to us when we were coasting through calm waters. Ted had the agility of a Billy goat, serenaded us with his guitar and harmonica when in camp, and offered Mark excellent first aid, on that last night. The only downside of Ted's boat were those two women (at least they were on the opposite side of the raft)!

The second night of setting up camp, Mark took off like a bullet to secure what he perceived to be the ideal location. He truly discovered the perfect spot - a bit secluded with easy access to the river. Wonder who else found this area to be to their liking? Yup, the same two women. This time, though, there was plenty of space, so sharing felt easier. While tucked away in the tent, unpacking my toiletries, pajamas, and clothes for the next day, one of the women invited Mark to play a game a bit later. Mark replied, "Thanks for the offer. I don't think I'm up for it, but Joanne loves games." The dude totally threw me to wolves!

But the truth is, I do love games. It's one of the ways I find it easy to connect with people I don't know, because we're sharing an experience that doesn't require small talk. That night, those annoying women, Heidi and Sofia, taught me how to play Rumikub. I've since taught and played this game with people from around the globe. From that evening on, my 20-something friends and I just connected. I sometimes wondered, and even asked, if they felt trapped - always ending up with us (me in particular) because there were plenty of other people, young and old, to socialize with. Sofia said, "No, I hate making small talk, and when we hang out with you, it feels like real conversation." I absolutely couldn't have articulated my own experience any better.

Sofia and Heidi made this Grand Canyon adventure better for me in every way. From the meaningful conversations, to the laughter and silliness, with the games and the post-concussion help woven in between.

A few days post-river journey, the couple would be starting their married life together in their newly purchased home (that they'd yet to see in person), just outside of Austin, TX. A few weeks later, Heidi was set to be deployed to Afganistahn for an undetermined amount of time (she came home safely!).

At first, we were all pretty faithful about staying connected. Then life pulled in every direction, and distractions happened. Maybe especially so, because we're at very different stages of life. Something I hadn't considered, when I took on the role of the "old" friend. A couple of weeks ago, though, I received a text from Heidi. It seems they'll be passing through the Boston area in August!

While I'm a little nervous that we'll have nothing to say after so much time, I've been buffing up the Rumikub tiles, and trusting that even as time and circumstances may have changed, the essence of our connection remains. I was reminded of this truth when visiting some friends in Iowa a few months ago.

I connected with Ed and Lisa over 30 years ago. So, these folks knew me when I was single, had no money, never engaged in personal growth work, and required a hazmat suit to enter my apartment (both because of the place AND how I kept it). These dear friends stuck with me for over three decades, and have seen me through it all...having my electricity turned off and my car repossessed, step-motherhood and a miscarriage, and hanging out with cheetahs in South Africa while living on "Country Club Road."

So, what did we do when we were together for the first time in five years? We had real conversations, played lots of games, ate great food, and went out to see live music - it wasn't Ted with his harmonica, but really, who could be? As part of our intimate talks, we wondered aloud if we would become friends if we met now. Our lives and interests differ in so many ways, it's hard to imagine under what circumstances we would meet. And, so, perhaps we would by-pass each other in our modern life. I tell you from my heart, though, I couldn't be more grateful for who they've been, who they are, and how much they mean to me.

When they moved from Cambridge to Iowa City over 25 years ago, I experienced a huge hole that got filled with sadness, busyness, and trial balloon friends. What I've discovered in the intervening years is that their place is ever secure in my heart. Their physical absence, while missed, did not ever alter the essence of our connection, and instead, by loving them, my heart expanded. I mistakenly believed that "big space" to be the lack of Ed and Lisa. I did miss them, and their move represented a loss of how things were, and in turn needed to be grieved. But the gift of having these old friends is that my capacity to love grew, because I loved THEM. It's allowed me to discover, foster, and grow other meaningful friendships through the years. I think it's because love, once experienced, can only ever expand our souls and create space for more. Truly loving is the epitome of abundance.

So, whether you have friends that are old chronologically or by span of relationship, know that loving them makes room for more...of the new... for the young... for the fresh experiences, and most importantly, for the YOU that you are now and the YOU you're growing into. Love finds a way to say, "there's always room for more!" So, practice loving someone today. And if you don't know where to start, begin with that amazing being in the mirror, because, who better to call an old friend?

With love from an old friend,

Joanne Lutz