Kathy Bassett: Quality friends
January 16, 2010
I just turned another year older, but I don't feel any older.
Well, except when I do feel older.
My inside self still feels like 18, but my outside self screams if I try to look in the mirror. So I just don't look in mirrors. I hope my inside and outside self never meet.
I was surprised to wake up on the big day and find so many friends had posted on my Facebook wall. Those of you who do not know what Facebook is … well, I'm not really sure, either. It's a place on the Internet where you can go and see what everyone is saying to each other, friends and relatives, thinking, working and playing.
To me, it's like you are a shadow following someone around. Some folks are private, and a great many of them don't give a whipstitch what they say for the entire world to look at.
It got me to thinking about friends. We have many kinds of friends. We have those who are steady, those we like to laugh with, true blue ones, playing friends, working friends, game friends, hunting friends, nerdy friends, smart ones, dumb ones, blonde ones (giggle), and well, you just name it and we can find friends that fit about any category.
We even have friends that are nice to be friends with, but you don't keep them around for friend friends, if ya know what I mean.
So we constantly hear that you can't have too many friends. Whether that is true or not, I don't know.
What I do know is that I don't necessarily get overly excited about "Quantity" friends. I like "Quality" friends. I notice that some folks on Facebook have 2,000 or 3,000 friends. How can you have that many friends and still be friends with them at all? Is it a contest to see who can have the most friends?
I like talking to my friends and knowing about them. It is a good thing when a friend knows all there is to know about you, but yet they still like you and consider you their friend.
I've got several quality friends whom I respect, admire and love very much. If they have a beef with me, they don't run around telling anyone else, they tell me. And if they tell me something in confidence, it stays right inside my head. I don't have to run straight to the phone, call someone up and "gossip, gossip, gossip" about who did what to who and "did you know?"
You don't want friends who talk behind your back. If they are friends, they will talk to your face. Life is short, and we don't need negativity.
One of my good, quality friends saw me working in the yard.
I was upside down, pulling weeds and trying hard to keep my shirt pulled down against the wind. I'd heard a vehicle coming down the road, and she pulled into my driveway, jumped out and it was like instant "we've known each other forever" as she proceeded to put on her friend suit and introduce herself.
We have gone places, laughed our heads off, played jokes on people, cried and carried on like two sisters. She even calls my mom her mom.
I remember one time we were driving back home after a "dinner night" out and upon passing a cornfield, mom made the remark that she sure did love eating field corn.
My friend yelled "stop!" and I did. She proceeded to jump out, run into the cornfield and pick a nice mess of corn for mom to chew on the next day.
She always is giving me what for because when I am driving, I let people have the right-of way among other things, and she teases me that she wouldn't be surprised to see me driving in the ditch saying, "excuse me," as people speed down the road.
She is so funny and always thinking of someone else and their needs and sometimes forgets that she has needs, too. She acts so surprised if you poke her to remind her that she needs to think of herself once in awhile. Our favorite place is in the "swing."
We have spent hours in the swing talking about everything and nothing.
The swing sits empty now.
She moved away to Arizona. But her husband insisted, and they bought a house big enough that if mom and I want to go stay there during the winter, we could.
Yeppers, quality friends are the best and I wish each and every one of you to have quality friends like ours.