A Reflection on Friendship
Friends I could count on, I could count on one hand, with a leftover finger or two. I took ’em for granted, let ’em all slip away. Now where they are I wish I knew. They roll by just like water, and I guess we never learn. Go through life parched and empty. Standing knee deep in a river, and dying of thirst.
“Standing Knee Deep In a River (Dying of Thirst)” Sung by Kathy Mattea. Songwriters Bucky Jones, Dickey Lee, Bob McDill © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
The Knife
An old pocket knife lies in our desk drawer. I must have put it there one day a number of years back. It started out at the front of the drawer, but slowly migrated to the back until a need arose recently. I had nearly forgotten it was there.
Carriers, Catfish, and Country Music
It is a Schrade Old Timer model 340T, and it was given to me by my friend Todd decades ago when we were hardly more than boys and far from home. Todd called it a friendship knife. We were young sailors assigned to a carrier-based U.S. Navy Aviation squadron on the West Coast. Todd was from Texas, carried a pocket knife everywhere, and used it often. I was a city boy from the East Coast, and really didn’t know what to do with the knife. I accepted his gift, and we became friends. He taught me how to catch and fry catfish, how to make chicken fried steak and gravy, and to develop an appreciation for country music. He used to jokingly tell me I was welcome to visit his family in Texas anytime, but being a Redskins fan I would only be allowed to wave from the front yard.
Albuquerque
Todd and I remained friends during our tour of duty. I stayed with him and his young family at his second duty station in Albuquerque, a two-day pit stop on my cross-country drive east following my honorable discharge a few years later. I have not seen him since. I later carried a Leatherman tool on my belt for many years and occasionally thought of my friend from Texas when I pulled it out. I sometimes think of him when I hear a country song from our era or as I prepare chicken fried steak and gravy, just as other daily tasks remind me of other friends from long ago.
Standing Knee Deep in a River and Dying of Thirst
An old pocket knife lies in our desk drawer. I must have put it there one day a number of years back. It started out at the front of the drawer, but slowly migrated to the back until a need arose recently. I had nearly forgotten it was there. So it is with friends.
“They roll by, just like water and I guess we never learn. We go through life parched and empty, standing knee deep in a river and dying of thirst.”
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