The Fluidity of Friendship

Earlier today a former high school friend of mine who has, in the ensuing 60 years, lived a very bizarre life quite foreign to mine and with whom I disagree politically, churlishly wrote to me on the Facebook page of a mutual friend, also from our high school, "We're not in high school anymore." 

No kidding! I will turn 78 in two months. I am very well aware that I am not in high school. Or college. Or med school, law school, or any school. (But hey Bette -- thanks for the tip.) When I was young, any warm body qualified as a friend. This particular person made the cut because she lived on my route to our school, almost a mile away, and so we could walk there together. Ta-da, we're friends!

Over these many long years, my friendship requirements often changed. There was a time when you became my friend if you liked anchovy pizza; those people were rare and truly valued. Then came the days when the parents of any child my son liked and played with regularly became family close friends (and baby-sitters). When the kids broke up, so did we.

At the present time I have far fewer friends as my requirements have tightened up considerably. I require the person to have a sense of humor, be respectful to animals, give freely to charity, show compassion, have strong morals and be in full possession of an intact, functioning brain that is capable of independent thought. 

I know, I ask too much.