I have a letter hanging on my bulletin board. It's from a 17-year-old Matt Salganik, and in it he writes, "Hi. My name is Matt. I am your college roommate. We should talk." And that summer, the month before I enrolled at Emory, we did. We talked about who would bring the microwave. Who would bring the TV. And I learned through that conversation that Matt was a soccer player.
Great, I thought. A dumb soccer jock. This is NEVER going to work out.
Funny how things work out completely, even after twelve years and counting.
On my first day of class at USC, a tempestuous Argentinean man insisted on talking loudly at everyone and everything. I was a bit leery of him, but he was persistent in approaching me and initiating conversation, as often as possible. Why? Later, he'd tell me, "I knew there was something interesting about you. It had something to do with the fact that you used the word chasuble in a screenplay."
You never know who is going to be one of the best friends you've ever had. Or why, for that matter.
One of the the greatest blessings of my life is that I seem to make (and somehow keep) wonderful, loyal, fierce friends. To give you an idea of what my group is like, my most veteran friend I've known for 24 years, and if I could conveniently exclude Brian (and I'm sure he'd love to be excluded from this post), my newest friend I've known for "only" five. (Hello Wallace!)
As a writer, I'm obsessed with the question of, why do these events have to happen at this particular moment to this particular character? Why do these people have to enter his life now? How does that make sense? And of course, I can't help but turn those questions on myself.
And when I look back at my life, I can't help but marvel at the serendipity of it all. What if I had roomed with someone else my freshman year of college? What if the Fulbright Fellowship hadn't awarded any scholarships to Argentina in 1998? It seems to me, and this is the point in which all of my empirically-minded friends begin to howl, that these individuals entered my life at exactly the most appropriate point in time, to calibrate my trajectory through life exactly the same way the Voyager satellites bounced off the planets to exit the Solar System.
A memorable example of this gentle intervention was when my friend Danielle (10 years) called me up in the middle of the night during my first year at USC. She told me she was calling, no joke, because she had had a bad dream about me.
I was a bit taken aback, because she sounded so serious. "What was the dream about?" I asked.
"I dreamed that you were running a marathon," she said. "And that you were way, way ahead of the pack. But then, right before the finish line, you stopped. And you just stood there. And every other runner passed you by. And I don't know what that's about, but I'm worried."
"Danielle, I have a confession to make," I said. "I've been thinking about dropping out of grad school."
Obviously, I didn't. And Danielle was a contributing factor in that decision. And so were the rest of my friends.
I wouldn't be here typing this today were it not for many of you reading these words. Danielle's phone call was only one of countless tiny interventions from my friends that led to this day, to this moment. And I can't help but mention the countless whining sessions everyone has selflessly endured from me during all these years. When I couldn't put one foot in front of the other, so many of my friends carried my ass to camp.
I was talking to some friends about the definition of friendship, and I was reminded of Matt Salganik's True Friend Test from freshman year of college.
"What if I called you in the middle of the night, told you to get ten thousand dollars together, and meet me in the middle of nowhere in five hours? Would you do it?"
"Uh, well, it depends," I said. "I mean, why would --"
"If you have to ask," he said, with typical Salganik melodrama, "We are NOT friends."
And so ever since then, my answer has been, "Without hesitation."
GP tells me, "Well, I would do that for anyone, because it sounds kind of cool and I'm bored."
Kidding aside, I know many people who would pass this test with flying colors - because they already have.
Here's a smaller test: do they keep their word? If they say they're going to do something, do they do it? Even if it's as minor as I'll be there at seven? Or I'll bring that thing? Rappers used to call this "Word is bond." And I first learned the value of it from my friends.
Even if the person I promised is no longer in my life, even if there are no repercussions, I do everything in my power to keep a promise. When I've failed to do so, even if it's because keeping the promise would be harmful to me, it feels awful. I can feel the wrath of my friends when I even think of not keeping a promise - which says a lot about them. So rest assured, I will be there when you need me. And your secret - that one thing you made me promise never to tell - is safe with me.
There's a notion, and I somewhat abashedly subscribe to it, that everyone - and I mean everyone - you meet in life has arrived to present you with a gift. And they have also arrived to receive one from you. Whether you are aware of the gift is irrelevant - this happens whether you know it or not, whether you believe it or not.
I believe this, perhaps foolishly, even of those who have said and done hurtful things to me. Which is kind of a roundabout way of saying that even my enemies can be my friends sometimes. In those cases, however, I prevent them from doing further harm, I sincerely wish them well (sincerity is important), and I move on.
But this is one about my friends. And this one is to say thanks.
P.S. I'm not the only one who thinks you're awesome:
Download - Judy Talks About My Friends (July 2003)
