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he’s my best friend
People let me tell you ‘bout my best friend,
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me till the end.
People let me tell you bout my best friend
People let me tell you ‘bout him he’s so much fun . . . Yes, he’s my best friend. My best friend
(“Best Friend” by Harry Nilsson; theme song to the tv show “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father;” sorry, it’s not embedded. I even signed up for Youtube, but still no luck getting the video to “appear” in the blog. And apologies if I give you the same earworm I now have!)
ChronicBabe.com’s blog carnival current question: “who’s your best friend? . . . share how important these friendships are in being incredible ChronicBabes!”
Well, let me tell ya ‘bout my b(m)f: been friends for almost 36 years; met at a new year’s eve party. (Picture tacky furniture and ‘70s hair!). All because he eats peanut butter and mincemeat* sandwiches heated in the microwave. A factiod his partner told me when I refused the bowl of peanuts. My most evil allergy and least favourite food nuked! A happenchance convergence; coincidence or synchronicity? From the first odd exchange when introduced “Do you really eat . . .” (and I had no odd food combo to contribute), I sensed best friend material. A strange and wonderful feeling; I tend not to make friends easily, lightly, or lastingly.** Yet, like some wild bumper car carnival ride, no matter how far and fast we go in different directions, we still keep careening back into each other’s lives.
We drift apart; we come back together. We keep in touch; we have long silences. Our life paths are so different (when we met and now) yet we can still relate to each other. Conversations where we never said a word out loud; shared darkest secrets, lowest points, highest joys. Not always honest (I’ve self-censured as I’m sure he has), but always sincere. I’ll send a crazy card or email; he’ll make a phone call. We have relied on each other in the past; I’m relying on him again.
Now we have something more in common: chronic pain and chronic illness. He has a rare form of arthritis that eats at his knees and knuckles. We limp, we shuffle, we groan. We try different diets, rounds of meds and alternative therapies. Tentative at first after years of my pushing away, this chronicness deepened our friendship in strange and unexpected ways.
The closeness that meant we could communicate with just thoughts is gone; lost in the exuberance of youth. Still there is warmth like candle-glow, connectedness, a shy and sly smile at antics past. When we may not be able to forgive ourselves, we have always forgiven each other. From first excruciating pun 36 years ago to last night’s phone call, he’s been my best friend, “a warm-hearted person who’ll love me to the end.”
On our 35th anniversary, we danced to ‘70s music; I think we’re both glad we lost the ‘70s hair! ***
Just Phylor
*Mincemeat is a mixture of chopped dried fruit, distilled spirits and spices, and sometimes beef suet, beef, or venison. Originally, mincemeat always contained meat.[1] Many modern recipes contain beef suet, though vegetable shortening is sometimes used in its place. Variants of mincemeat are found in Australia, Brittany, Canada, northern Europe, Ireland, the UK and the United States. In some countries the term mincemeat refers to minced or ground meat. (via wikipedia; I’m providing the definition b/c when I mentioned mince meat in a comment, folks wondered what it was.)
** . . . in the real world; I’ve found some special friends in the cyberverse.
*** If only I had a scanner here! I could include some mid-‘70s pix that would embarrass us both even more!
Related articles
- Blog Carnival #31 – Summer Plans (chronicbabe.com)
- Best Friends – Chronic Babe Style (hibernationnow.wordpress.com)
