A visiting relative gave me a little present when I was about 6 or 7 years old. It was a bookmark with the head of an owl drawn on the long leather strip. The owl was there to impart some wisdom. "Books like friends should be few and well chosen," was written on the front of the bookmark.
I've kept this little gift for over 60 years now. It's been a good reminder. Just as I have tried to choose my friends wisely, so too have I acquired the collection of books I now have.
Now, however, change is on the horizon.
Slowly, I've been passing many of my books on to people I think can benefit from them or to re-sell for credit to buy the books I am currently reading. When I made a major move from the Bay Area to Oregon 12 years ago, I thinned out my books considerably. It's now time to move that downsizing to the next level.
As for the friends part of this equation, with my move came the loss of some lifelong friends. Oh, we still keep in touch, but many are essentially no longer a viable part of my life and vice-versa.
I have tried to find some new friends, with some success, but that quest has its drawbacks as well.
So it was with no surprise that I read of a new study equating finding new friends with dating. Yes, that's right, the two have many similarities. That's not too surprising because both involve expectations as well as images we have in our minds about the kind of people worthy of our company.
Still, to fulfill the desire to meet people that make our lives fuller, we must take risks. Social scientists tell us that those who have rich friendships with others are happy, healthy, and much more well adjusted. No surprise there, but again, it's risky.
Case in point: For the past few years I've been looking for a fishing partner. I live in a fly fishing paradise with numerous lakes and streams a mere two hours away. I fly fish about 3-4 times a month, when weather permits. It's really more enjoyable to share the experience. I have on occasion. But in recent years, that has become less and less.
Like dating, I've thought of using the internet to find a partner. Yet, the thought of meeting someone who becomes more of a burden than an ally is frightening. It's a slippery slope. What I want is a clone. Realistic...hardly, but someone who likes to fish lakes with a float tube, is close to my age, and is willing to share driving would be nice. Someone with some experience would be nice too. I don't really want to teach someone to fly fish, but if compatible, that isn't entirely out of the question.
Now it seems as if I shouldn't have too difficult a time finding a new friend about my age and ability level. I see them all the time on lakes. Yet the conversations I have, albeit brief, never lead to anything, because most of these folks live far away.
I don't mind being a loner, in fact it has its advantages most of the time. As the old expression goes, "he who walks alone walks faster." But every once in a while I'll see a car pull up to a boat ramp and two guys from my generation get out and gear up and launch their tubes. Joking and smiling and loving their friendship, they depart. I stop and stare and think about what might be possible.
I've kept this little gift for over 60 years now. It's been a good reminder. Just as I have tried to choose my friends wisely, so too have I acquired the collection of books I now have.
Now, however, change is on the horizon.
Slowly, I've been passing many of my books on to people I think can benefit from them or to re-sell for credit to buy the books I am currently reading. When I made a major move from the Bay Area to Oregon 12 years ago, I thinned out my books considerably. It's now time to move that downsizing to the next level.
As for the friends part of this equation, with my move came the loss of some lifelong friends. Oh, we still keep in touch, but many are essentially no longer a viable part of my life and vice-versa.
I have tried to find some new friends, with some success, but that quest has its drawbacks as well.
So it was with no surprise that I read of a new study equating finding new friends with dating. Yes, that's right, the two have many similarities. That's not too surprising because both involve expectations as well as images we have in our minds about the kind of people worthy of our company.
Still, to fulfill the desire to meet people that make our lives fuller, we must take risks. Social scientists tell us that those who have rich friendships with others are happy, healthy, and much more well adjusted. No surprise there, but again, it's risky.
Case in point: For the past few years I've been looking for a fishing partner. I live in a fly fishing paradise with numerous lakes and streams a mere two hours away. I fly fish about 3-4 times a month, when weather permits. It's really more enjoyable to share the experience. I have on occasion. But in recent years, that has become less and less.
Like dating, I've thought of using the internet to find a partner. Yet, the thought of meeting someone who becomes more of a burden than an ally is frightening. It's a slippery slope. What I want is a clone. Realistic...hardly, but someone who likes to fish lakes with a float tube, is close to my age, and is willing to share driving would be nice. Someone with some experience would be nice too. I don't really want to teach someone to fly fish, but if compatible, that isn't entirely out of the question.
Now it seems as if I shouldn't have too difficult a time finding a new friend about my age and ability level. I see them all the time on lakes. Yet the conversations I have, albeit brief, never lead to anything, because most of these folks live far away.
I don't mind being a loner, in fact it has its advantages most of the time. As the old expression goes, "he who walks alone walks faster." But every once in a while I'll see a car pull up to a boat ramp and two guys from my generation get out and gear up and launch their tubes. Joking and smiling and loving their friendship, they depart. I stop and stare and think about what might be possible.
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