I like my friend Loren.  Quite a lot actually.  I suppose if I call him a friend, I should like him.  He’s one of those folks who bring with them their own type of joy, spread it around while they stay with you, and then leave a little behind. 

You know what I’m talking about?  It’s like after they leave, their joy lingers on.

I haven’t known Loren for as many years as I’ve known some of you, but I’ve decided years don’t necessarily spell what friendship can or will be. 

Sometimes it’s more about what you share in common with the folks you call friends than the length of time spent together.

Some years ago, the thing was all about hostess gifts.  Maybe it still is, I don’t know.  But if you stayed at someone’s house, say overnight, or even as short as 6 hours, you needed to bring along a hostess gift.  These gifts ranged from lotions to lotions, I think.  Maybe a nice little cup or scarf came our way once or twice.  And as far as I know, I never got any hostess gifts; it seemed to be more of a female thing.

But Loren, on the other hand, is not shy concerning hostess gifts.

I suppose since we are talking men here, it would be good to switch over to calling it a host gift instead of a hostess.  I think what makes a stayover with Loren so enjoyable, is that you never know what his host gift is going to be.  That’s probably part of the pique of our friendship.  I’ve tried to return the favor, when I stay at his place, but I suspicion my efforts at leaving some joy, have fallen far short compared to his.

He told me once, that when he went on a trip years ago, which was obviously long before digital G.P.S. days, his route could easily have been traced just by the host gifts he left behind.

One place got a partially used bottle of shampoo, another probably got a tee shirt, clean or worn that day, we don’t know, and maybe another got a belt, etc., etc. 

He is truly generous and impartial in his giving. 

So, it was one day, that Loren was getting ready to depart from my place after a brief stay.  He and his wife stood by the front door, ready to load into the silver Malibu they had traveled out on.  We chit-chatted about having a safe trip and that we would miss them.  I paused in my thinking, then decided maybe a breach in protocol would be okay this time.

I mentioned to him the trip he had made years ago and wondered if, just perhaps, he had inadvertently left a host gift somewhere around our house.  He was quick to reply that both he and his wife had given special attention to that detail this time and they were sure they had retrieved anything that could possibly be conjectured later as a host gift.

It was some 20-30 minutes after they left that my phone rang.  My friend seemed to have a bit different inflection to his normally pleasant voice.  It almost seemed a bit more serious, per se.  In his call, he wondered if I could run downstairs to the bedroom they had used to check the headboard storage for his wallet.  I figured since I had harassed him on this subject earlier, he was getting his last laugh. 

But not so. 

He definitely wanted me to go check for his wallet. 

I found it much where he said I would and jumped in my truck to meet him halfway on his journey back to my place.  His comment upon meeting?

“I had a comment saved up to tell you when we met, but I must have left it somewhere along the way.”

The final chuckle to that deal was when I got home and saw his notebook lying on my desk.  He refrained my offer to run this out to him, saying he would pick it up at another meeting.

*****

I suppose in all fairness, Loren would like to tell you of a host gift I left for him once, but since he isn’t here to do so, I can relate it very briefly. 

It seems that once, after we left their place, having been treated so kindly and graciously by them, I had the audacity to leave a pair of my undershorts, to be discovered sometime later, as my host gift to them. 

Leave some joy.