Friends for Life
I was born in Webster City, Iowa. When the Dustbowl made it hard for many in my extended family to get paid work, we decided to move to the West Coast where we’d heard things were better. In the process of travelling as a line of cars filled with family, the first car in our group was struck by a large truck making too wide a turn—into the oncoming lane. The adults and baby in the front seat were killed while the three sisters in the back seat survived, but especially one with severe injuries.
I tell you these sad stories to demonstrate why having a lifelong friend to count on became so important to me. Someone to for sure “have my back” became a central goal.
We settled in West Seattle, my older sister, younger brother, mother, father, and me. I attended the high school there and was lucky enough to have a deep and pleasant relationship with Jim…who became my lifelong best friend.
Jim and I had the same desire to form and keep a solid relationship to count upon. We made it a swear: That we’d always come through for each other when needed. That included help moving into new places, someone who’d rise at any time in the night to drive to a broken-down car, help fixing dead appliances or cracked windows or cars. We swore to be there when needed…and by golly, that’s what we did.
I was the first to marry and Jim was there for us. Our swear came to include wives and kids. We took a couple of family trips together to the ocean, and my wife said Jim could smell an apple pie cooking from across town. But he was well worth it—always with a ready laugh and smile…a pleasant presence in all of our lives. And, yes, we spent a lot of time together. We scrounged through car parts together, talked about politics, laughed and moaned over jobs and co-workers and bosses.
When Jim got married, we still extended our time to being together for important stuff like hardware store trips and checking out each other’s potential homes and cars.
Each of us had plenty of occasions to drive to the rescue for an out-of-gas or stuck in the muck vehicle. We each chatted with the other’s wife when the husband wasn’t filling all that role. We shared our kids too. If someone ran away from home, the lifelong buddy might be the first to ask why. We supported and applauded our mutual families. We mutually mourned losses of pets, jobs, elders.
And we lived long enough to know how precious this kind of pact can be.
When Jim was dying, I spent time with him. When he died, my wife and I were at the funeral.
When I got home, I felt the loneliest I ever have. It was like losing one of my limbs.
But I can’t regret the pain of the loss. It was so painful because it had been so good. I’ll never regret having put so much importance on a friend for life.
John W. Sweazey retired Emeritus from the University of Washington at fifty, never regretting having spent ample time with his friend for life.
SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
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