Friends Cost Money

Friends Cost Money

I was about 8 when I realized our family had no outlets to the outside world. Sure my parents would on occasion drag us to a dinner with, “friends” who were actually elderly couples that I would classify as Sun City lounge lizard groupies. My parents would interact with these various seniors while using their show biz personas. I was expected to do the same.  The art of being a schmuck; I had it perfected by the age of 10.  Perhaps this is the reason that some think I would make a good politician.

My father would ceaselessly banter about his past and all his relations that were, but ceased to be. He had at one point in his life been a Big Band director and led the Lloyd La Brie (his name) Orchestra on a trans-Atlantic voyage on the SS Normandie. He was kind of a big deal and I am sure had lots of acquaintances and at least some cronies. By the time I had entered pre-adolescents, I would ask him why I couldn’t have friends. He would state plainly, “They might steal something from the house and besides you don’t need friends, friends cost money.” I remember thinking that this was among the worst sins a person or group of people could be accused of. Why would anyone want to interact with those who might rob you or potentially impose any type of financial liability? I figured that my desire for friends was abnormal at worst, or un-evolved at best. An intelligent, worthwhile human didn’t need to belong to a group because they should be above that.

My father would always give my mother two blank checks on Wednesday so she could shop for our family. Wednesday was always the day that the grocery stores would start their sales for the week and the coupon clipping was at its best. I rode with her to the market and pharmacy to, “help.” I would sit across from my mother on the large front bench seat as we drove the endless mile and a half to the store. On occasion I would look at my mother and she would be crying. I asked her what was wrong and she would undoubtedly burst out something to this effect, “Your father…your father is so fucking controlling. Look Danielle, he only gives me two checks and I make half the goddamn money! I haven’t had an orgasm in years and he doesn’t let me have any friends! Why did I even get married? Don’t ever let a man do this to you!” Um, ok. Pretty heavy for an 11-year-old but the message was clear: Unstable types, like my mother, desired friends.

As I was slowly allowed to emerge from my familial lock-down I realized that I was super social and loved having friends and being part of all that was going on.  I interpreted this as a character flaw or a moral weakness. After my father passed away, my mother would refer to all my friends as, “crazy.” Not in an endearing way, but rather as a judgment, as in, “How is that crazy friend of yours? What’s her name?” or, “Why are all of your friends crazy? I guess you attract them.” This did not dispel the inner discomfort that I harbored regarding my desire to make and maintain relationships. I now know that these cutting statements were more projections of her unsound mental health status than they were anything about the company that I kept.

Joan Chittister, a Benedictine Sister and spiritual writer stated, “Community is the backdrop against which we do. It gives us the underpinning to go on when we are tired, to go forward when we are afraid, to go more deeply into he unmasking of the self when everything inside of us seems to have gone to stone goes dry and dull and lethargic.” I like to think that God is mirrored to us by our exchanges with others. I feel that unless we place ourselves fully in our community and amongst our friends then death of a soul will surely occur. How sad to be without friends and this realization makes me sorrowful about my dad and his take on companionship.

I currently live my life in a variety of communities. Some are more superficial and others are so deep that at times a scuba suit is required. Within and amongst these groups reside the people whom I call my friends. I need them and I hope that they, on some level, need me, because my humanity would be barren without them. Friends cost money, yet having no friends could cost you your soul.