Friends

            I’ve been thinking about friends a lot the past few weeks. Last fall, the guy in the bunk next to me – Mark – was getting ready to go home after seventeen plus years. I had spent a fair amount of time with Mark the last year in our college program. School didn’t come easy to him so it took a fair amount of effort on my part to get him through English class. Spending that amount of time with him led him to open up a good deal about his life.

            Mark was a guy with trust issues. That’s to be expected after you’ve done any sort of extended stay in custody. Honesty equates with weakness behind bars. So Mark, like most guys you meet; hold their proverbial cards close to their chests. You destroy envelopes with names and addresses, lest they fall in the wrong hands. Prison lore is full of stories about “the guy” at prison “X” who left his home address out and later found someone posing as his friend convinced his family to send money to help get him out of an extortion case. The stories – like most urban legends – take on lives of their own.

            I had a guy I was helping fill out financial aid forms for school buck at listing his social security number. “I don’t want anyone stealing my identity,” he said. “You’ve been locked up fourteen years on attempted murder and armed robbery charges, right?” I asked. And when he nodded in agreement I said, “Who would want to steal your ID? That could be the best thing to happen to you!”

            It’s trust and being able to open up, to expose yourself – warts and all – and have that person still have your back. Mark was just like countless other men I’ve met in here who didn’t – or couldn’t – share their story for fear their story, their guilt, would be used as a weapon. Mark did open up to me; he learned he could trust me. And when he left he felt better because he knew in the “real world” trust and friendship goes hand in hand.

            Friends. I never gave much thought to what that meant before my arrest. Friends were the guys I hung out with, golfed with, had over for drinks or meals. They were always in couples and my wife and I would evaluate their relationships versus our own. Her best best-friends’ husbands naturally became my friends. And we’d hang out and talk sports, sex, BS about the market. But, did we ever truly trust each other? Were we ever really honest?

            One night, as we were getting ready for bed, my wife told me about close friends of ours. “She’s so unhappy. He doesn’t tell her about money and, his pills are missing.” I knew what she meant by “his pills.”

            “What do you want me to do about it?” I asked. “Talk to him,” came the reply. “I can’t do that. It isn’t my place.” Isn’t my place. Funny. Later, when he heard I was arrested he sat on his bathroom floor and broke down. Two months later, he came to see me at the jail and has been there ever since. And, I’ve opened up to him about all this and everything that was happening in my life when I decided “all this” (this result) was worth the risk.

            I found out he’d been through a devastating divorce years earlier. His first wife had an affair with one of his friends and she took a lot of his assets. He had a hard time with trust after that. I listened to his story and realized two things. First, he knew what I was feeling in my own marital collapse. Second, I should have been a better friend before my arrest. I should have known what he’d gone through.

            A better friend. Let me tell you about Charlie. Charlie was my “go-to” guy at home. His wife and mine became best friends and the two of us gravitated toward each other. Charlie’s fairly quiet; his heart is in music – he’s a jazz saxophonist with a PhD (go figure!) in jazz from LSU. Charlie’s the quiet guy – except when he’s around me. Then, he talks. I don’t even know how to put into words what a real friend Charlie is.

            Two weeks after my arrest, two weeks of my life completely collapsing with my sanity barely intact, Charlie sends me a Bible. And at first, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it – what was he trying to tell me? Was he saying, “You need to get right with God?” But, here’s what I knew: I’d already actively contemplated ending it all; I was scared; I thought I was losing my mind; and my worst fears, those gnawing thoughts that my wife never loved me, were coming true. So, I opened that Bible and started reading and haven’t missed a day since.

            That Bible has become a record of my life in here. Good days and bad days I read and record notes in the margins. So often, it would be a Psalm or a piece from one of Paul’s letters that would help me regain perspective and focus. Charlie’s Bible saved my life. Without it, I’m not sure if I could have survived any of this.

            And Charlie? It was Charlie who told me she was going forward with the divorce. It was Charlie who told me she was remarrying. Charlie has always shot straight with me and he’s never asked why I ended up here, never judged me. It was always a simple smile and shrug and a, “You’d do the same for me. That’s what friends do.”

            What friends do. You want to know who your real friends are? Fuck up royally. Make an utter and complete mess of your life then see who stays around. Chances are, your circle will end up with a finger count with a thumb and pinkie left over. Most folks don’t stay when it’s hitting the fan. But the two guys I just wrote about aren’t most folks – thank God for that.

            Friends. I had a guy I was very close to in here. So close, in fact, that I let him meet my family and shared blogs I was writing. I stood up for him one time about eighteen months ago when guys began a whisper campaign that he wasn’t who he claimed to be. “He’s a sex offender, Larry. He messed with underage girls.” That wasn’t what he told me. Besides, he’d always shot straight with me. I told those guys I judged men in here by their behavior in these circumstances, not what led them here. It was a great soliloquy and my chest expanded with pride. I was a good friend, I told myself.

            I was also naïve. See, he got busted and we discovered he was dirty, dirty as could be, and all those thoughts I had about him having my back – it wasn’t so. He endangered me, and my friend DC, and the entire college program.

            I thought about that a lot the other day after my two buddies left visitation. God has blessed me with these two – and so many others. And, I try and reciprocate that love and friendship in here to guys. It’s just not the same.

            There are a few men I’ve met in here who I consider like family. Friends, real friends, are few and far between.