Once upon a time, before we were "blessed" with widely available, economic transportation, and global communications, many of our friendships were glued together by PROXIMITY. We are resourceful creatures, and are quite adept at utilizing what is at hand to meet our needs. Neighbors were friends, because they were close by. Maybe we packed up the wagon and headed out West for a new life, and had to face the loss of friends back home, but we didn't do it every couple of years when we got a better job off of Monster.com. So, we now see this swing in relationships that is often dictated by MOBILITY. I see it as a numbers game. I haven't relocated that often, but have made several "career moves" over the years. Each of these changes has brought me through a different little cosmos, complete with the usual cast of good, bad and ugly acquaintences. As my little spaceship of life has travelled to the next galaxy, the mobility has taken me out of the proximity of the last planet, and thus out of constant communication with its inhabitants. I guess if I had just stayed put in the 'hood, I would still have the same circle of friends I did as a child. Or not. I am actually typing this from less than a quarter mile from where I grew up, and not a single soul from my early days is still around. And while I recognize the fact that looking over someone's shoulder may be shortchanging that conversation, I must admit that it has often brought me to the place where I was being guided in the first place. So, here I sit, in close proximity to my old stomping grounds, unable to visit with old friends who are no longer there, and utilizing electronic mobility to communicate with new friends.

New Zealand. Hmmm. We must visit more about this, friend.

Be happy and careful

I had friends, once upon a time. But, in a manner much resembling the process of continental drift, well, I think you get the point. And like the slow pace of geological movement, this process of "de-friending" has happened so gradually that until recently, I did not realize it had taken place. And even though it happens, there isn't a good enough excuse to justify it. The part I have played in this seems largely to be the result of the fact that I have not stayed in one place for a very long time. When I have managed to do so, it was in a state of isolation, and that doesn't work either. I try calling people to stay connected in some small way, but that doesn't seem to cut it. I call them. Not many in return. Makes me wonder since I've known some of them over 20 years. And then I start thinking, "why keep this up when it feels like it's turning into a one way street?" So, I eventually get a clue and stop. I cut them lose. If I hear from them again I will be glad. If I don't, I don't. I have come to believe that as a culture, we are losing the skills of being a friend to somebody. People move around, have surface relationships with each other, refuse to slow down long enough to have actual conversations of substance and healing grace; always looking over the shoulder of the person we are talking to (rarely with) in an attempt to get to that point in the future when our real life will start because the life we have now just ain't good enough. But what if there were no possibility of "advancement"?
What if the place you are now was to end up being your station in life until you take your last breath? The people you know now being the ones you would be living with until that last breath? Would that be something I could accept? I am glad to know that someday in the near future I will leave the place I am now, a place which I simply do not like. Period. But now I know some people here and I want to know them for the rest of my life, but I'll be moving again and I don't know that we will stay connected. Am I that important to them? Are they that important to me? Or are we just in another round of the temporary friend cycle that repeats what has happened before? I'm just tired of it , that's all I know. Almost too tired to care; almost. I can blame some of this on a hard, dark winter. I'm tired of winter and want to opt out of the ones to come, aside from skiing. I want to follow the warm weather and when December hits, I want to move to New Zealand for another round of summer while this dump gets dumped on once again. And while I'm there in the long New Zealand twilight, 78 degrees, hiking in the shadow of Mt. Cook, I promise to try to work up enough energy to call, e-mail, postcard...to remain friends with everyone who I have yet to shed from the friend list, or who haven't relegated my rolodex card to the cylindrical file under their desk. I'm willing to try.