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To Have A Friend, You Have to Be a Friend
The micro and macro levels of being a decent human
Years ago, my grandmother told me, “To have a friend, you have to be a friend.”
My grandmother did have close friends: Edith, her friend from school, and Imo, her friend from work. Imo and Howard were two of my grandparents’ closest friends as a couple. They were also good friends with another couple, Nev and Lillian, but I don’t think my grandmother was very close to Lillian. Imo was her pal.
My grandmother also carried grudges and resentments for decades. She was a difficult person, but I also never remember her gossiping about any other woman and the most I recall her ever saying about another woman was that she didn’t care for that person or would prefer not to be around them.
I wasn’t raised in a household where gossip and backstabbing was common: if it ever came up, it was always taught to me “Don’t reciprocate, don’t participate.” If you don’t like someone, just stay away from them.
Bruce has been ill since June or July of this year, and I now know who my real friends are. Several people may not have known of his illness, but if they were actual friends, they would have. Others know: and have been scarce since I could no longer participate in a lot of social activities, or since he…
