Someone’s gotta help me dig
Fifteen songs about friendship
When I was in my twenties, I thought I had it all figured out. But the older I get, the more I discover and appreciate life’s uncertainties and surprises. One great mystery to me, probably the one I think about the most, is friendship. Why do we spark with a small amount of people and stay connected to them, whereas most people are only in our lives for a fleeting, forgettable time? There’s no way to predict the timing, strength and length of a connection with someone. I'm fascinated by this.
Relocating from Windsor to Vancouver and then London put tremendous strain on my friendships. People I assumed I would be friends with for life vanished as soon as I moved away. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. Conversely, some acquaintances I had in school unexpectedly appeared in London and have become my best friends. As someone who needs to understand things, to observe patterns and form connections and justifications in my own mind, this is one of the most bewildering aspects of life. I’m in my forties now, perhaps I’ll never figure it out.
As a kid, I had a small social circle – I was never popular in school nor part of a large friend group. I struggled with team sports; I preferred being in theatre ensembles and playing music. For young Josh, sports represented rules, conformity, and a machismo that I couldn’t remotely fake. In the theatre and band rehearsal rooms, there was less pressure to conform, I could be myself — a sensitive and creative individual — and also contribute to a group.
I started to flourish socially towards the end of high school. I finally found my tribe at university. I was involved in many clubs and social activities at UBC, like student council and improv, while also playing in bands. (I wrote about that formative time here.) I wanted my voice to be heard and everyone to know me. I loved accumulating friends of all types, to reflect my likeability and diverse interests. This coincided with the dawn of social media, so collecting Facebook friends became a quantifiable signifier of how socially successful I was. (See! Right now, I am liked by ___ people!)
Post-university, I worked in the music industry, so I was going to gigs and conferences all the time. There were always new people to meet, lots of ‘networking.’ I loved to schmooze.
Nowadays, I regularly meet people as part of my job, and I do occasionally make new, strong connections, but they’re fewer, farther between, and less likely to last. My theory is that it is more difficult because of the shift in people’s priorities. In your twenties, you aren’t established in a career yet and most people aren’t fully immersed in a romantic relationship, so you can devote more time and energy to friendships. As we age, other priorities take over, and the number of friendships one can realistically maintain is diminished. I’ve found myself lamenting lost friendships, and my shrinking social circle, more than I should. Don’t get me wrong, I have amazing people in my life, I feel loved. I know that friendships should be valued for their quality, not quantity, but I can’t help stressing about it. I lie awake at night wondering: do I have enough friends? Does anyone truly know me? Why did so-and-so ditch me after I moved away? How come so many people are terrible at communication?
Do other people worry about these things?
I am gradually accepting that there’s a certain fatalism in the ebb and flow of friendships. Inevitably, people change, so it’s natural for friendships to change, too. The best solution I’ve found is to surround myself with people who have similar life circumstances, priorities, and values, so we’re more likely to evolve together.
In my know-it-all twenties, my test for a true friend was someone who’d help me bury a body at 2am, should the need arise. (It didn’t and still hasn’t.) I was reminded of this when I heard the chorus of “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings” by Father John Misty. The song was the impetus for this week's playlist.
Burying a body is an extreme hypothetical, I know, but what it represents is still resonant: who can I rely on to show up, who can I trust with a secret, who’s going to finish the job? Friendship takes effort. I’ll admit that I haven’t always put in the work.
Now, with age and wisdom, I’m more committed to my friends than ever. Second only to music, friendship is the most important aspect of my life. I’m willing to get my hands dirty. I’ll bring my own shovel. We’ll do the digging together. Who's up for it?