It’s an interesting compliment, if you consider the word
“collect.” Knowing my mother, she means it genuinely. But I know perhaps on the
outside, it looks like too often I mention “best friends” here and there. That
I “collect” friends simply to have them. My best friends in NYC. My best
friends from high school. My best friends from PiPhi. The truth is all my
friendships are unique and special to me. I also believe that friendships ebb
and flow… but I don’t pretend to be an expert, or have all the answers.
The last year has, unfortunately, seen the end of a few
friendships for me. To me, each person is unique, and even with fantastic
friends I have mourned the loss of some others. Some deeply, and painfully. I
try, to the best of my ability, to stay friends with people who have touched my
life meaningfully. It is not without its challenges.
When I was in middle school I really had no friends. I had a
tendency to “smother” – and as a result, girls pulled away. I can’t blame them
for that. I was born extraordinarily sensitive. When I was in preK, my mom was
called by my teacher for a meeting. My mom sensed this was some kind of
trouble. Instead, the teacher said – Dana came up to me at lunch today. She
said someone in the class was struggling with lessons. She said that he needed
extra help, but probably was too shy to ask for it. She said could I help him,
but not let him know she said to because she did not want him to be embarrassed
or ashamed. The teacher told her – I know adults without that level of
sensitive empathy. I have never seen it in a four year old.
Despite that empathy I shared a likewise unparalleled veil
of naivety. I fell victim to every conceivable middle school prank. I was so
embarrassed that I didn’t have friends that I would lie to my parents about
having plans and ride my bike around the neighborhood alone. I made up stories
about school trips, since usually I was walking around with chaperones or
people I didn’t know. I never had a group, I never felt like I fit in. I spent
lunch periods in a teacher’s portable dusting chalkboards, thankful just to
have somewhere to be. I remember, acutely, wanting just one friend in the
world. I promised God if I ever had one friend I would be the best friend
anyone could ask for.
And so I did. I struggled of course – in 9th
grade I had a group of friends that quickly disbanded. My paranoia of being
left out was irksome to many, understandably so. But a sweet 13 year old girl
named Courtney had enough patience to stay by my side the next 4 years of high
school – and life after that. And every friend I made, I kept the promise. I
remembered birthdays, I sent cards. I made trips to see friends who lived far
away. Throughout high school, throughout college. I have been disappointed, I have felt
sometimes like I give too much, but it is also who I am.
There is another element to my friendships that I am
notorious for – pictures! I have adopted the unofficial position of group
Historian for all of my groups of friends (and now with instagram I’m arguably
even worse). My interest in cameras began at a young age. Even with my family I
liked to volunteer to take pictures. I played with my mom’s film camera when I
was only in elementary school. On trips I always took a Kodak disposable camera
or two, always got double prints, always gave the second set of prints away. As
I grew older, it became a way to become and stay friends with people. Look at
us here – look at this memory we made. Mostly it was about trying to connect. It
still is – I love commemorating every “Throwback Thursday” with an old picture.
Memories are so special to me, and worth treasuring.
Some friendships ebb and flow, I truly believe that. And I
believe in forgiveness. I also believe there are times where you simply have to
walk away. It’s not easy to decide which course is best. I have found that
trusting my instinct has been the most important thing, and giving without
expecting something in return to be equally important even if it is a bit
harder in practice.
Friendships are a two way street and require work, there’s
no doubt about that. But they should be effortless in my opinion, in that the
desire to stay in touch, the kindness you show one another, simply wanting to
be in touch, be it every day, every week, every month, or every year – whatever
works for you.
I think I will always be the friendship Historian. I always remember
how we met, insisting on pictures early on, capturing the memories. At times, I
have annoyed most of my friends with these requests. But photos have always
been how I connect, how I helped find my place, how I helped learn how to be a
friend and to find real friends. Over time, I’ve even had some friends thank me
for the rabid early-days shots – for more than a few, I was responsible for the
first picture of my friend and her eventual boyfriend/husband.
I want to add that I am so thankful for the friends I have
made, even the ones I have lost. Sometimes things come full circle and you find
yourself in touch yet again with someone you haven’t spoken to in years. They
say a picture is worth a thousand words – for me they are worth many special
friends J
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