A few years before my mother died, she surprised me by saying she admired and envied me for never losing a friend. I can’t remember whether that was ever true or was true then. It certainly isn’t true now. I suspect
she was regretting sad aspects of her own life and magnifying
them. Her only other significant praise was telling me I held
the importance of my marriage in proper relation to other family obligations, i.e.,
it was paramount; everything else be damned.
By now, I've lost countless
friends. It’s really disturbing. The final few, who must have been important because they lasted longest/latest, were
all utter, unexpected, unmitigated
disasters. In each case but one, I
tried to salvage something from the wreckage, but was unsuccessful.
Cut to the chase, I guess
they weren't friends anyway. I wish I had the time back; it was substantial. The
last fracture was the
oddest, but so-called social media is like that; communication barriers seem to be broken down, but no real connection ever is established. License divorced from
responsibility. Over an extended period, I was in daily virtual touch with someone who was searching for an online claque to admire and praise him. Looking back, our
relationship reminds
me of how my wife who worked with music celebrities for a living
advised junior publicists about the
divided qualities of “artist contact.” Too often after
meeting or working with someone you think you admire, you are
never able to enjoy their art again. So it goes.
They say that personal criticism of others tends really to be a form of identification and self-criticism. I kind of agree with that. In that case, my last erstwhile friend thinks he has a lot in common with
Donald Trump and Adolf Hitler. That’s funny and tragic.
