Yesterday morning I had a visitor to the office. I’ve known him since my earliest days at the Co-op, and I really enjoy our chats. We have those deep conversations that flow easily. Those come way too infrequently for my liking. Most people talk to brag, or talk to gossip, or talk to hear themselves talk. Not him. And it really touches my heart when he takes time out of his day to sit down for a spell. He’s a busy man.

So we got to talking about how fortunate we are, and how we’re not thankful enough for what we’ve got. And, as our conversations invariably go, he got around to telling tales about his dad and his group of buddies. They were truly a redneck gang. They loved to play practical jokes on one another…sometimes even mildly dangerous ones. And ALWAYS ones that will make you late for whatever your next task will be. So he’s recounting some story about a notorious fishing trip and it made me think.

There just aren’t friendships like that anymore.

I have one friend I could call for anything. Annnnnyyyyything. We even had a code for in the event I killed my former husband. I have no doubt she would have come a-runnin’. There might have been more than one or two “oh shit”s uttered, but we would have taken care of business. And it would have been done and that would have been that. I don’t say this lightly. I really and truly mean that Lisa would help me dig. And that’s only if she didn’t run into him in a dark alley before I had the chance. Some of y’all have even met her and see how we are together and know this to be true. We’re dangerous enough together on a good day, sober.

Real friendships are built over time and adventures. I speculate this is why we don’t have these groups of friends now. Our circle is much broader, but it’s not as deep. Our world is so much bigger than it used to be, we’re not contained by geography. You can talk to people all over the world via any number of social media apps. Just a click away. We don’t try to see one another in real life, we can Skype or Facetime from anywhere, any old time. Case in point, when I was in St. Augustine this year, I was having brunch at this wonderful boutique hotel by the name of The Casablanca Inn. I sat at a table on their patio overlooking the harbor and street. I enjoy people watching, and guessing what their story is, where they’re headed that day. This couple comes in, maybe thirty, and takes the table next to me. I’ve pegged her for a high-maintenance someone, her husband is probably an investment banker or maybe a CPA. She had mounds of dark hair twisted up under an extra large black straw hat. She also had a very large clear rock weighing down her left hand. I noticed it when she answered her phone. And kept eyeing it as she merrily chatted away via Facetime to her friend who was in another country. This couple was in town for a wedding. I learned all about it over my multiple Bloody Marys. Her husband patiently looked over the paper while she chatted, holding the phone up at face level while she consumed her entire breakfast. I’m here to tell you, MY patience grew thin with her, even if his didn’t. This wasn’t a friend who rarely called, I gathered. This wasn’t a friend in need. This was just a chat that could have been had at any time. Judging from her husband’s demeanor, this was commonplace. How do you become accustomed to being so blatantly ignored? Sigh. Smartphones are making us ill-mannered humans.

Lisa and I grew up in close proximity to one another, which is how we eventually became so close. Now she lives half a state away, but we have the means to see each other with regularity. Especially in the last year, when we have desperately needed one another. We’ve had several adventures in our lifetime, and they continue to build. We know things about each other that nobody in this whole world knows. Is this part of what makes relationships tight? The ability to blackmail? Maybe that’s what most people call trust? You trust someone with your secrets…your feelings…your heart.

My uncle had a group of buddies, most passed now, that were thick as thieves. They have a million stories dating back to high school and before, when they were old enough to get into meanness. Every time I think I’ve heard them all, I hear a new one. Stories about wrecking cars and motorcycles, “borrowing” boats and hiding equipment. They loved to one up another. They have been known to call and disguise their voice and claim to be with the EPA, the TWRA, or TVA. They know what buttons to push, and how hard. They’d rather aggravate as eat. It’s something all the time, you really have to be on your toes around them or you’ll fall victim.

One such story relayed to me yesterday was of his dad being broke down somewhere in the wild blue yonder about 11:00 at night. One of his buddies in his group was a mechanic. (We all need at least one mechanic friend, and a plumber, and an electrician, in case you haven’t figured this out yet). So he calls up said mechanic and tells him what’s happened. The mechanic commences to cussin’. The guy who had the truck trouble just went ahead and hung up instead of waiting on him to wind down. The feller that was riding with him was in a bit of a panic, wondering what they were going to do now. Their only hope was most assuredly incensed and there was no one else. The driver of the truck stretched across the seat of the cab to take a nap while he waited. “No, he’s coming,” he assured his passenger. “But I heard him cussing you!” “Yeah, but he’s on his way. Just wait.” And sure enough, in a little bit, the time it took the mechanic friend to gather his tools and get there, he showed up, fixed it, cussed him, and left.

I know a guy who has a core group of friends. They get together at least one night a week around a fire to drink beer and tell lies. They’re probably too lazy to kill for one another, but they’d help cover it up. They’ve been friends since grade school. And you can bet they stay off their phones for the most part on those sacred “guy” nights.

I got four hugs yesterday. None were from my best friend, but they were all from good friends. Would these people help me kill somebody that needed killing? Probably not. But I wouldn’t think to ask them. Sometimes you need a hug, and sometimes you need to borrow a backbone. And sometimes you need a kick in the ass that only your best friend can deliver.

I hope you have one. My wish would be for a dozen, but you need one. Go see your best friend today. Surprise them with a hug and some chocolate. It’s Christmas.