With A Little Help

Friends. The family that we can choose, some say. You can't live with them and you can't live without them, others say. I've heard, "I don't know why I am still friends with them!" and I've heard "I don't know what I would do without my friends." The comments and feelings stirred among people when talking about their friends run the whole gambit of emotional investments.

I was thinking the other day about my various groups of friends, searching for the commonality that they all hold.  I have friends from my childhood and high school, friends from college, friends from medical school, friends from residency years, and friendships built from our life in this same town we have lived in for the past 15 years.  Because my wife and I settled into a city where our closest relatives live two hours away, our friends hold even more weight in our lives for the part they have played, sometimes even physically and mentally substituting for our family on special occasions.

Yes, we all need friends.  Better yet, we all better damn-well appreciate our friends. A good friend, tested and true, will be there through the pretty and ugly, through the happy and sad, and through the fun and miserable life moments.

I came up with a lot of reasons for the friends I have chosen or have chosen me over the years.  First and foremost, I like people that don't take themselves to serious.  After all, life is not such a stellar example of structure and order, and through the many moments of a typical day where something can go unexpectedly wrong, I like the person who can adapt with the situation and laugh off the change in plans.  So you thought you were going to be going to NYC for the weekend but your car broke down in the Poconos?  If you check in a motel and enjoy the Poconos, I like you.  If you bitch and whine and obsess over your ruined plans, I really hope to not spend more time with you in the future.

Diversity.  A key commonality among my friends.  My best friend growing up was Himer, an awesome buddy throughout our school years, classes and school sports and first dates and all.  His parents were much more liberal than my conservative parents, and somewhere between our different upbringings, we found a common bond of friendship.  My roommate all four years in college?  Christopher, straight from the rat-race we call Long Island.  Me--country boy, small-town, Adidas shorts and Hanes t-shirts, sneakers.  Chris--city-bred, big-town, Ralph Lauren pressed khaki shorts and purple shirts, penny-loafers. I took him four-wheeling and he took me to Manhattan. Oh, I can't forget about Gailie, my fellow Biology buddy who was a Catholic princess, through-and-through. Together, we were inseparable (along with Tony and Barnes and Dave) for much of our college days.  Best friend in medical school?  Easily KT, a Jersey girl with a heart of gold and an eye on public service.  We shared a bond of tennis and creative writing among many other things (including who to trust and distrust in our competitive class).  My best friend in residency?  Tomer, my Jewish, sharp-witted, cowboy-boot-wearing buddy for always, who watched my back during our 30 hour call-days.  Thankfully, sprinkled among all of these friends were more and more friends who impacted my life.

Even in my city life now, I surround myself with diverse friends.  Some of my best friends from the creative world?  A very cool, committed couple named Christine and Marcy.  Not only did they foster my love of the writing world, they also fostered my love of pets, of wine in quantity, in music, and in myself, helping me seek out ways to make myself better through some trying times.  My other friends all hold some diverse characteristics within their personalities that keep me coming back.  I love the fact that I do not seek "like" individuals, but rather people that can teach me and open my eyes to the many beautiful differences of their lives from mine.

Finally, without a doubt, the biggest commonality among my friends is humor.  Straight-up.  If you laugh at my silliness and I laugh at yours, we will be friends.  Prank phone calls, crazy texts, recognizing life's many absurdities, morning "sore-face" after a night of frenzied laughing and joking over a bottle of wine--those are the friends I gravitate to. Inappropriate and risque perspectives will get you bonus points, even.

Just last night, we were at an amazing dinner with six friends, eating great food (thanks, Michele!), drinking great martinis (thanks, Eric!) and wine, and just laughing and howling for four straight hours. No subject was off-limits and by the time we were hugging our goodbyes, we had solved most of the world's problems. Driving home, my wife and I both noted just how much fun we have with our friends. We are blessed to be surrounded by such cool people.

A better example?  Here is a reference letter our good friend Mike wrote for my wife when she was applying for a full-time position in a local school district.  It is just a rough draft, but one that he thought "might just get her the job."  Thankfully, he got serious and started at square one again, producing the perfect reference letter needed.  However, I tend to agree with him that this original letter may have gotten her the job in a much quicker fashion:

Dear Mr. K.,

I am a writin this letter to let you know that Karin is an awsim persin who would be a great choic for your new secretary girl. She haz a nice houz and drives a really cool bug! Her kidz are nice too and are clean most of the time. She haz good toes and a strong back. Lord knowz shez been carryin that husband Jim of herz  for years. She must be an angel from heven to be able to put up with his bull-shit, so she certainly can handle workin for you.

Karin is a great cleaner and bakes good tastin stuff. At a party once she made these reelly good brownies that made us feel reel mello. She must have a majik touch! Jim would never know that because he is always suckin down his fancy vodka drinkz. I think if he were smart enuf he would have hiz own moonshine still. I’ve only seen Karin reely drunk a few times so you don’t have to worry about her.
  

Karin is a reel cool mom too. She lets her kidz eat all the candy that Jim buyz at Sam’s Club and they still have most of there teeth. I bet those kidz will even gradute high scool one day despite the upbrigin of there pa. He has good intentionz but is a bit misgided when it comes to raisin youngins. I think he waz born in the woods or somthin.

Karin is good at managin stuff too. She can go to work all day then come home and cook and clean and get those kidz where they need to be…all the while Jim is “gettin his nap on”. It is amazin that she keeps that guy around. Allthou he is sorta pretty and has a nice set of gunz on him. I did see him without hiz shirt once and wuz amazd by what wuz there….. but this iznt the time to go into that!

Karin is reel easy on the eyes too. She would add some class to that school buildin. She haz nize hair, skinny ankelz  and amazin elbows. She smellz nize too. I bet she showerz almost every day and usez fancy lotionz. She certinly would not smell up the place.

Well, I hope you hir Karin for the job despit any shortcomins of her husband. Maybe he won’t come to the chrismas party so you wont have to meet him.

This made me laugh for days.  And days.  Only a good friend would waste an hour of his time to pull something like this off, right?  By the way, my payback to him?  Threatening to put his innovative letter on my blog and actually going through with it!  Didn't think I would do it, did you Mike?

Appreciate your friends.  Appreciate your acquaintances.  Appreciate the people around you who bring good humor, diversity, and a light-perspective to balance the seriousness that life sometimes holds. And appreciate the reflection of you that is mirrored back by all of your various friendships--this insight may prove to be invaluable and priceless.

As for me, I'll just keep laughing and smiling my way through this journey we call life.  With a little help from my friends, of course.  

As always, big thanks for reading... do you recognize the common thread that runs through your various friendships? Please share... and Happy Father's Day to all you fathers out there, especially those who treat the title of "Dad" or "Daddy" with the utmost respect...you are a heroes, each and every one of you.     

Against The Norm

I grew up in a small town. One of seven kids. Raised by parents who represented the expected, traditional roles. Dad worked hard and, with his brothers, became extremely successful in the forestry industry. Heck, he even cut down the presidential Christmas tree one year. Mom kept house and raised us kids quite nicely. The family glue, she was. A sit-down, multi-course meal was enjoyed by the nine of us every night. Roast beef and potatoes, steaks with home-fries and corn, breaded pork chops with green beans and cinnamon applesauce. Who eats like this anymore?

My family was conservative and Catholic. Through and through.

To my parents' credit, expectations were placed on us. Expectations that prepared us for life's many angles and unexpected surprises. Expectations that taught us that life's blanket has many different colored threads interwoven throughout it.

For one, we had to excel in at least one sport. Mine, you ask? Easy. Tennis, which I actually played through college on scholarship. I also loved basketball and baseball. My sister Rosie, although she won tennis districts in doubles a few times, claims to have been the best cheerleader in the family. A sport now, yes, but in her day, a few stomps of the feet and claps of the hands really didn't impress the rest of us. A "stomper," I called her, instigated by the fact that my parents actually accepted this activity as her official sport.

We also had to maintain an A or high B average. My parents batted seven for seven with this expectation. We were taught that discipline and hard work reaps many benefits, especially good grades. And, as expected, we all attended college and graduated. For some of us, books became our very close friends.

We had to be kind and compassionate, to one another and to our fellow-mankind. Mom would perpetually have us kids deliver meals to many of our elderly neighbors. In the winter, we shoveled our neighbors' walks. In the summer, we cut their grass. Without pay. And, more importantly, without complaining. My dad, after hooking up his snow-plow to his pick-up, would plow any driveway in three counties.

Probably the most interesting expectation placed by my parents, though, was that each of us had to excel at playing a musical instrument. Mine? Classical piano. How's that for you. Ten years to boot. I initially loved playing the piano in elementary school. Around 10th grade, however, I was starting to enjoy it significantly less. Imagine being a teen-ager and having to leave basketball practice early for an hour piano lesson with Sister Mary Catherine, who happened to be the spitting younger version of Sophia from "The Golden Girls." She was tough, but I learned well. Besides other pianists, among us we have an accordian player, a french horn expert, and a clarinet virtuoso.

By appearances, my family looks like the typical, if blessed, American family. Some of us are conservative in our thinking, some of us liberal. Each of us is quick to admit that we had something special and lucky with the childhood cards we were dealt.

Within my siblings, I am probably the most liberal. Does that mean I am Obamafied? Hardly. I'm still a physician working hard in the American system. But I love diversity. I crave diversity. Part of my job's enticement, besides the rewards of helping a patient through an emergent illness or injury, is the social interactions I have with so many different people from so many walks of life. It's a very cool place for me to sit--an appreciation of diversity perched on my left shoulder and my traditional upbringing on my right.

Recently, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek post about men being wimps. It was a spirited and laughable post, although I stand by the elemental truths that us men, with exceptions (of course), are not the stronger of the two sexes when it comes to facing illnesses. Some of the comments from that post questioned if I were stereotyping and, if so, why?

I took a few comments and let them brew in my mind, gathering wisdom with a few passing days. And you know what I realized? I learned that, if anything, I am quite far from the typical, stereotyping person. I don't judge but, rather, observe. Sometimes my observations may not sit well with someone, but that's okay. They are my observations. My experiences.

Flipping that coin, I would be a hard person to stereotype, too. And I like it that way.

I made a mental checklist to prove it. I work out at a gym four days a week while listening to acoustic Sarah McLachlan on my mp3 player. If you looked at me, you would probably think I read history or murder mysteries. Wrong. I just finished two incredibly-written "chick books"--The Help and Saving Ceecee Honeycutt (both of which I would highly recommend). By ninth grade, even, I had read all of Shakespeare's works. Not to say that I don't like a good Patterson book once in a while (all hail Alex Cross). I am both big city and small town. I am both country and a little bit rock-and-roll. Come June, my wife and I will be seeing both Ingrid Michaelson and Cyndi Lauper in concert (I'm a sucker for a strong female voice). I can cut a tree down on a peg fifty feet away and, yet, can successfully pick a perfect room paint color in an instant. I get angry at seeing healthy people my age abuse our country's fine intentions of financial assistance but will fight to have every child, every handicapped person, and every elder adult benefit from my taxes. I am compassionate most always. I will avoid flushing the toilet after one of my prouder productions (if that isn't something to beat on your chest about, what is?). I like a beer but, once in a while, I might have a glass of wine, a vodka tonic, or (gasp) a martini. I enjoy landscaping and washing and waxing cars, playing sports, and teasing the shit out of my family and friends. I can iron and press a dress shirt with the best of them (a necessary talent during the medical school years).

You get the gist. Essentially, I don't want to be pigeon-holed. Ever. Who among us does? Most of us are not a box with four sides. My interests are scattered all over.

Today, at work in the ER, I met an amazing couple. Women who were life-partners. Women whom I initially thought were best friends. After spending several of my rare down-time minutes with them, just talking, it became very evident that they were committed to one another. And they couldn't have been any more fun, this couple, laughing and finishing one another's sentences. As I walked out of their room, I smiled. Big time. I appreciated their diversity and I appreciated my privilege to meet them and learn a little more about the big picture of life from their perspective.

As I sat at my work desk afterwards, I thought about how each of us has an unexpected something about us that, if isolated, could be judged as peculiar or "not normal" by our fellow man. Me included. But what is normal and what isn't? And who made those rules? What people expect from me and what people ultimately find out about me sometimes sit on opposite ends of the spectrum. How cool is that? This very thought is the thing that drives me, inspires me even, to learn more about the people in my life, the patients and families in my ER, and a stranger I may pass in the street.

I observe people and appreciate their differences.

My parents' rules and expectations went with the norm of what I knew life to be. And yet, because of those norms and guidelines, I have interests that extend way beyond the stereotyping and norms as defined by our society. Just what, I'm sure, my parents were hoping to instill with their expectations. If so, they succeeded. And I thank them.

Do any of you have an unexpected something about yourself that goes against the norm? I'll bet each of you have an answer that is three letters, starting with "y" and ending in "s." And Pat and Vanna, I'll take a vowel--"e"--right there in the middle. Am I right? Do I win a prize?

My kids face the same expectations as I did as a child--they all play the baby grand that sits off our foyer, they get great grades, and they play two or more sports. They are good kids who love music and books and are kind to other people.

Hopefully, that's not against the norm. But if it is, I'll gladly keep things the way they are.

It worked for me.

As always, big thanks for reading. Especially this one. A change of pace in sharing some of myself. Next post will be Friday, May 14. See you then.