Tag: friendship

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. We All Need Somebody to Lean On

 

In the past I have often said that I’m an introvert; at the same time, I’ve thought of myself as the kind of person that people could reach out to. I’ve wanted to be a caring and reliable friend. Many of you who read my posts know a great deal about my life, and I like it that way. At times my approach to writing makes me more vulnerable than I like, but I feel compelled to share.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. It’s Going to Be a Bumpy Ride

 

As the doorbell rang, I let go of the napkin I was fingering and hurried, then slowed down, as I walked to the door. Ted watched me from the other side of the room and smiled reassuringly. My heart felt as if it would leap out of my chest. I took a deep breath, paused at the door, put a smile on my face, and said a brief prayer. As I opened the door, Valerie was on the other side with a silly grin on her face.

She said, “Hey you!! How have you been? She stepped in confidently and gave me a big hug. It felt great, and we held onto each other for an extra moment and then stepped back with tears in our eyes. She saw Ted and called out, “Hey, big guy!” He grinned back.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. A Jolly Challah-Day!

 

“Oh, it’s a jolly challah-day with Susan, Susan makes your ‘eart so light!” OMG. Apologies for the appalling pun, to you, to @susanquinn, to Mister Susan, to the brothers Sherman who wrote the music and lyrics for Mary Poppins, and above all, to everyone who reads this, wherever you are, for inflicting upon you Dick Van Dyke’s excruciatingly embarrassing (embarrassingly excruciating?) excuse for a Cockney accent. Born within the sounds of Bow Bells, he most certainly was not:

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. When a Dear Soul Passes On

 

My dear friend, Earl, died yesterday. You may remember my writing about him a few times.

Earl was a bright and engaged 88-year-old black man. He was over six feet tall, lean like the swimmer he had been, and was one of the most curious and reflective people I’ve ever known. He was in our meditation group for nine years, showing up every Monday to meditate silently, and then participate in our discussion. He would ring the bell to start our meditation periods and end them, and also lead the group in slow and moderately paced walking meditation. One time he asked us, where else could I go, walking in circles around a room and have ten women obediently following me? We roared with laughter.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Basia and the Squirrel: Scruton’s Tale of Eros Transubstantiated

 

“The apostolic church is a church of the heart. When you steal from it you steal the heart. Hence the theft is easy, and amends are long and hard.” A strange way to sum up a story of erotic love. Nonetheless, it was Scruton’s way, as he described, in the second half of his essay, Stealing from Churches, the thwarted love affair that taught him a “narrative of transubstantiation” transmuting body into soul. In truth, the love affair wasn’t thwarted at all, but one that fulfilled its purpose, a purpose his stubborn young beloved, Basia (pronounced “Basha”), saw more clearly than he did.

Scruton had organized a subversive summer school for the Catholic University in Poland, bringing together Polish and English philosophy students to resist communism. Under the codename “Squirrel” (in Polish “Wiewiorka”, for his red hair) and tailed by at least one jug-eared agent, Scruton had stumbled into more James-Bond mystique than most ginger-haired philosophy dons could hope for. It would be almost cliche, then, for an exotic young thing to throw herself at him. Wry-smiling, stunning Basia was no cliche, though. Or rather, if she were, it would be the cliche in a kind of story too little told these days to count as cliche anymore.

Mary Katharine Ham and Lyndsey Fifield dig into the science behind Enneagrams, love languages, and other personality tests to reveal how they maintain friendships with a tight crew of ladybrains.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. What’s Truly Important

 

I’m a bit depressed this morning. Normally I make an effort not to let the ugliness and destructiveness of the news get me down. But the world weighs heavily on my shoulders today: feckless actions by Macron, the usual contradictions by Trump, efforts to pass anti-Semitic/anti-Israel bills in Congress (which I will write about later). I can’t find the space to let in the joy and knowledge of blessings. And then I remember that in one hour, I will do something good.

On Monday mornings I visit with my friend, Earl. He is 88 years old. I’ve written about him before—his concerns about racism (he’s black and liberal), Donald Trump, the state of the world.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. You Are My Teachers

 

On a whim, I checked the number of posts I’ve made: 736! I’ve also made 16,236 comments. But the number that moves me the most is the number of posts promoted to the Main Feed: 400.

That last number suggests that I reflect on its significance. It means that I wrote many posts that many of you decided deserved extra attention. (Yes, it also means you might really like me! At least you might like my writing enough to read my post!)

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. A Tribute to Earl

 

What does it mean to be a man? It occurred to me this morning that my friend Earl is the epitome of what we want in a man, what we should expect from a man, and I’m proud and honored that he is my friend.

I’ve written about Earl before on Ricochet. He is a tall, lean black man, a Progressive and one of the kindest and most self-reflective persons I know. He is also 86 years old, declining from a multitude of health conditions including early Alzheimer’s. He loves to discuss ideas and ask deep questions; I would often ask him what he thought the answers were to his questions, because I knew at some level he had his own heartfelt, often profound answers.

Member Post

 

William Butler Yeats isn’t my favorite poet, but he often does, as in this case, speak my heart. Politically, he doesn’t reflect my views at all. Emotionally though, I can often understand where he’s coming from. His personal life was a hot mess too, and boy howdy, I can relate to that as well. Preview […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Quote of the Day: Friends

 

“When you’re in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, ‘Damn, that was fun.'” – Groucho Marx

Yes, it’s true. Sometimes the things you do are not the smartest. But it is always nice to know that there is someone who will have your back, even then — and think afterwards that it was fun. Kipling talked about that kind of friend in his poem The Thousandth Man.

Member Post

 

Some months ago, a United States Marine Corps career officer of my acquaintance observed that, for a foreigner, for a civilian, and for a woman, I seem to have enjoyed the company of a quite a number of United States Marines in my life. And he’s right. (To be clear, I always call them “United […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Member Post

 

I’ll be honest. I’m tired of all the division. I’m tired of the disunity. I’m tired of people who manufacture reasons to fight. I want us all to be able to see a world that consists of only two kinds of people. Not black and white, not Republican and Democrat, not gay and straight, not […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. The Worm Ouroboros: Leftist Eating Habits

 

The title for this post is stolen from a novel of the same name by E.R. Eddison wherein the Lords of Goblinland, Impland, Witchland and Pixyland war with one another in unceasing plots and, like many Norse and Icelandic inspired mythologies, tend to rinse, lather and then repeat endlessly. It’s a great read if you can stomach the sometimes awkward writing style and thick language.

In any case, my post isn’t actually about that novel. The image of the worm eating its own tail is an old one, and one that in most cases references the endless and cyclical nature of time. There is nothing new under the sun, so to speak. The image in my mind recently has been of a creature devouring itself and complaining and moaning about how much each bite hurts.

Jim Geraghty of National Review and Greg Corombos of Radio America discuss the fight between left and right over who should head the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau and whether President Trump gets to make that decision and why the Constitution makes this an easy call. They also shake their heads as House Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi offers a pathetic and hypocritical defense of longtime Rep. John Conyers, who reached a settlement to end a sexual harassment allegation and has also been accused by other women. And they respond to the Twitter proclamation of New York Times columnist Charles Blow that he cannot be friends with anyone who supports President Trump.

Contributor Post Created with Sketch. Member Post

 

Both @henryracette and @annefy have made the case that discussions with the Left are worthwhile, even if it’s impossible to change their minds. (Others may have written posts that I’ve missed.) I’ve commented many times over the last few months that I don’t have those discussions. First I don’t have a lot of opportunity to […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Member Post

 

I don’t often find it difficult to come up with something to write about. But, as a few people have already said this month, the topic of “Beauty” has been a tough one. And the posts so far have covered so many aspects of the subject, so well, that it’s become even more difficult as […]

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. Group Writing: “Something Pretty”

 

This month’s Group Writing topic, “Beauty,” stumped me, initially. Until I recalled a nugget of family lore that Mom Panjandrum shared with me during a difficult time: I’ve had many experiences that did plenty to convince me that I was anything but beautiful – inside or out. The late-tween/early-teen years were particularly bumpy in this regard. One day, when the valley seemed forever deep, Mom P. said: “I have something to show you…”. She parked me in the master bedroom, took something from her jewelry box, and settled in her favorite chair.

The story begins with my Mom’s childhood friend N, for whom I’m named. The two shared birthday celebrations, sleepovers, fan club welcomes for favorite film and music stars of the era who came to town, and an out-of-state trip for Mom P. to visit when N.’s family moved. This closeness flourished — from grammar school through high school graduation — when life took them in different directions: Mom P. to training as an RN/OR nurse; N. to hospitality/property management (with a lifelong enjoyment of drawing and photography.) N’s grandmother, Mrs. O. kept her up-to-date with hometown news like my early arrival and naming.

Member Post

 

The young people say things these days: You’re my ride or die. Preview Open

Join Ricochet!

This is a members-only post on Ricochet's Member Feed. Want to read it? Join Ricochet’s community of conservatives and be part of the conversation. Get your first month free.

Recommended by Ricochet Members Created with Sketch. George

 

George was 77, going on 78 when we met. He owned a firm that rather suddenly had become my client due to an emergency failure in their IT network – an emergency that lasted 20 years. A protégé of George’s at the firm would end-up becoming one of my best friends – a relationship that will last forever.

George was remarkable: full-bird Colonel on General Patton’s staff, DoD project manager for the implementation of the world’s first mainframe computer, editor of a military journal for decades, college teacher, business owner, founder of the Pachyderms – a group of folks with thick skins, a sense of humor, and a keen interest in politics and bourbon.