Friends

I had a delightful dinner in Detroit last night with media consultant and former TV producer Lori Weiss, who still looks as lovely and beguiling as I recall her in my memory, even though we haven't seen each other in years. I consider her a dear friend and confidant, but different cities, jobs and schedules have prevented our paths from crossing.

That got me to thinking about friends and what tricky and unpredictable beings they can be. You can go years without speaking to some friends, then pick up the conversation as if you just stepped away for a moment when you finally reunite. Other friends require careful nurturing, like orchids; leave them unattended too long and they wilt and fade away.

Maintaining friendships often needs to be an active, conscious activity. That's one of the hardships for me in returning to Detroit: I'm usually there no more than a few days at a time, and there's no possible way to touch base with all the friends who want to reconnect with me. Somebody always gets left out of the mix, which leaves both of us disappointed.

This made me realize – no, that's not right: I always knew this, but last night reinforced it – how fortunate and blessed I am to have a group of lifelong friends. People tell me this is extraordinarily rare, but I'm very proud of the fact that my closest buddies from high school – Walker, Byron, Eddie, Tom, Frank and Bummer (no, that's not a misprint) – remain among my closest pals. The old crew is an extremely important element in my life.

Last April, when I was preparing to move from suburban Detroit to Champaign, Ill., and my body was wracked by gout (more about that horror later), Frank, now a successful businessman in Ann Arbor, heard of my physical dilemma and volunteered without hesitation to help me pack, use one of his fleet of trucks for the move and, with his wife, Lisa, drive my stuff to Illinois on their own time. If I ever doubted that God brings angels to us in our times of need, this incredibly selfless act set me straight.

One of the reasons I so enjoy my six-hour drives from Champaign to Detroit is that it allows me time to call all the friends I swear I have no time to contact during my very busy workdays. I'll open my cell phone, pick a letter at random under "Contacts" and call the first person whose name I see.

It absolutely amazes me that we have more means of communication today than at any time in recorded history, yet often find it harder than ever to remain in touch. You know and I know that "I'm too busy" stuff is poppycock, but we all use it as our rationale. Everybody's busy; trust me, your friends are thinking the exact same thing right now. Pick up the phone.