Letter to a Friend

What follows is a letter I penned, a few years back, to a person who had positively impacted my journey on the course to enlightened soulhood. I offer it here as a reminder that, perhaps, you too, have just such a person in your history who might need to be reminded of the important role they played along your path of discovery.

April 28, 1998

________:

I had another birthday Saturday, and as often is the case these days, I remembered old friends. I looked you up on the Net several weeks ago, as I mentioned during my call. It was nice to talk with you again, but the unspoken reason for contacting you wouldn’t enjoy sufficient justice with a simple phone conversation.

You were my best friend so many years ago. As I mentioned, I became a Catholic a few years back. What I didn’t share, was that the genesis of that decision took root during our ancient high school friendship. I haven’t practiced Catholicism consistently—all of that is a rather long story. More recently, however, people ask me why Catholicism after so many years as a Bible-thumping Protestant, and I mention you.

You weren’t like my Protestant friends—you were real and a Catholic everyday, and without apology.

These days, however, I wish I were more like you. You listened to me—and that gift of concerned attention isn’t one of my virtues, nor is it a strength of many people today. There’s a large story behind the struggle of my high school years not worth revisiting here, but one of my greatest strengths has always been the gift of gab.

I can still recall that time when the teacher’s lounge door opened with S__, S__, and A__ surprising and discovering each of us, you, ___, and I, with trays of food, heading back to the classroom (“S,” “S,” and “A” were high-ranking school administrators. Toting food from the lunchroom was a violation of school policy, although the teacher in charge of that particular classroom told us it was okay, so long as he remained ignorant of the affair. Moreover, we were assigned third lunch period, and we were eating during the first hour!)

The two of you made a quiet bee-line to class while I occupied S__ with some trifling concerns about our morning TV production. (Our high school had a state of the art television production studio, and morning announcements were anchored by S__ and broadcast into each classroom and on a local cable channel. I worked the production booth.)

I heard that S__ died a couple of summers back—I miss him. I guess that’s because he was one of the few teachers who seemed to like us kids. As poignant as some memories are, the strongest yet are of those times we spent in that stuffy storage room surrounded by towering stacks of electronic gear—broken stereos and TVs; multitesters and oscilloscopes—and a group of three or four playing cards nearby. While I’ll never remember you as one who dispensed great wisdom—for what wisdom do seventeen-years-olds possess?—you shared time with me, and that was more important than I realized.

I owe you a debt, and God, too, because you were there for me during some tough times. God knew how broken I was then, and His love for me at that time is evident now only because He has blessed me with good friends, such as you, when I needed them, and has allowed me to remember every detail as if it happened only yesterday.

Catholics spend time at Mass venerating the dead and invoking aid of the saints. We probably need to spend an equal amount of time venerating and invoking those who bring God’s love close to us in tangible, ordinary ways.

I doubt that any of my current friends will ever know you personally, but whenever I do take the time to listen and care about others—it’s because I’m venerating you, ___.

The mists of time have shrouded our current endeavors, conjuring up a mystery of delicious proportions. My history and life is truly a soap opera—and while I yearn for a more ordinary storyline, it seems as though I will need to live long enough to see this tale through to the end! You may write or call me anytime. For now, however, may God bless you and keep you; may He fill your house with screaming happy Catholic kids blessed with your gift of listening, and bloat your pockets with wads of dough; and may He touch you right now in His own special way!

Yours,

Herb