My wife often accuses me (jokingly) of having too many friends. My phone is constantly buzzing with texts from fishing friends from all over New England, Long Island and New Jersey. In one regard she has a point, I do consider all of these people to be friends and I really enjoy knowing them, working through fishing strategies, sharing highlight catches and whatever other items of note might pop up along the way.
I’m sad to say though, that the Merriam-Webster definition of ‘friendship’ has changed over the past decade or so, and I don’t think it’s just me. This may be why I feel compelled to correct my wife when she suggests I have ‘too many friends’ – I do have a lot of friends but I have only a few true friends, guys I can count on when I need them most, guys who really actually know me and that I truly know as well. I blame the breakdown of real communication for this erosion in definition, you could also say that our communication breakdown stems – at least in part – from so many of us working from home, myself included.
The substance behind the old saying “no man is an island” has become harder to realize in a time when so many of us willingly moat ourselves off from the rest of the world. I read a study the other day that said a growing number of people are afraid of phone calls, yes, afraid. This same segment of the population considers a phone call to be a hostile mode of communication, because the person being called has to answer right away and has no time to consider a response within the fluid exchange of a conversation. Is that really scary?
Let me tell you, there is no replacement for interpersonal communication, even if you lose touch with someone for way too long or even if a person in your life holds a very specific role, like… I don’t know… your landscaper. Seeing them as a contact entry on your phone who you only text so that they will appear when you ask them to, is not an interpersonal interaction, it’s actually kind of dehumanizing.
Let me give you an example. I have a friend, Glenn, who I met a few years ago at the Narragansett Surfcaster’s Surf Day. Glenn is one of those guys who can cover almost any trade, heating, air conditioning, electrical, plumbing… etc. He also loves to fish and he is 100% gaga over custom wooden lures. I wanted to replace my boiler, Glenn wanted to learn some stuff about building plugs and we struck a deal. Since that time he has become a friend and we always have long conversations whenever we see each other, or when he comes to my house to help with another project that goes beyond the scope of my expertise. But our conversations have always stayed in the lanes of fishing, plugs and work.
The other day he came over to help me finish wiring-in the laundry closet I recently built. Standing in my basement, blabbing, the conversation suddenly turned down a more personal path. We were talking about losing a friend or loved one and I learned something about Glenn that completely changed the profile of who I knew him to be. It’s not my story to share, but the basics are that his grandmother became ill when he was 14, and he left his parents’ house to live with his grandmother for 10 years to help her live through a long illness and ultimately through the end of her life. Glenn is one of the most positive people I have ever known, nothing gets this guy down. He said, “Ever since I did that, I’ve felt like someone was watching out for me. When money has gotten tight, or some other tough situation happens, it seems like something always comes my way to correct it.”
That’s the definition of a standup guy and someone who embodies the fact that we make our own way in life. It would be easy for him to let that experience dictate his path, but Glenn has taken control and done it all with a smile on his face. I could never have learned this if we only texted or exchanged direct messages on social media. It’s easy to forget that it’s the people that we place around ourselves that make us who we are and that – sort of – landscape the path that we follow in life. Fishing has presented me with some of the best friends I’ve ever had and has taught me that this thing – fishing – at the intersection of all of our circles, only tells the first line of the story. Fishing forges the connection, but it’s the human aspect that tempers the steel that the friendship is built upon. And I think that’s worth remembering.
