How old are you? 

What is your definition of a friend?

I’ve asked the first question to several people in a little different way than they perhaps are used to.

I don’t ask them how old they actually are; for sure if they are a woman.  I rather put it this way. 

“What age have you been for the last while?  Do you stay current with your age, or have you ever stayed locked at a certain age?”

Now, with that info, I’ll ask you again.  “How old are you?”

For years, I was sixteen.  Then after a while it changed to somewhere in the twenties.  For some reason, I skipped the thirties entirely.  (I’m guessing it had to do with certain teenagers and my close proximity to them.)  Now, I’ve been 44 for the last couple of years. 

I asked the clerk at Walmart this question and if she knew what I meant.  “Oh, for sure,” she said, “I was thirteen for the longest time, then bumped up to nineteen.  I think I’ll be nineteen for quite a while yet, by the way I feel, even though my real age in getting close to 30.”

Some folks I ask, especially the men, give me a strange look and try to put a little distance between themselves and me.  I can’t say I blame them. 

I’ve pondered it myself.  What makes a person’s age memorable?  Is it a life event?  Does it have to do with how settled one is with themselves and their place in life? 

I haven’t been in seriously deep water for years now, but part of me still thinks I could be sixteen when I’m around a pool, measuring my steps to the end of the diving board, backing up and running out with one long leap at the end and launching up and out effortlessly, dangling weightlessly at the top of the arc, then down into the depths . . .

But I think if I tried it in real life, certain handicaps might come into play; gravity may be a thing to be reckoned with more so than before, for whatever the reason.

Now, on to the friend question. 

I hope to tie these two together yet.

Sure, we could look up the definition of friend and get the exact meaning of it. 

But what is your definition?

I think back to when I was younger.  Friends were a commodity that had high value.  If you were friends with THE TOP DOG your value was intrinsically more than, say, if you are friends with just a number of guys. 

In other words, you limited out with ONE friend. 

Not several.  Hardly even two, because then you had to SHARE your friend, and he might suddenly like the other person better than you, and then your self-value would immediately plummet to rock bottom.

Unless, of course, sometime later in the evening, TOP DOG happened to glance at you.  You could allow yourself a few points of self-worth then. 

I don’t think I’m the only one who had this mentality when I was younger.  I’m suspicious everyone sort of goes though a phase of being friend stingy, and I’m equally suspicious that phase is during some or all of the teen years.

But do friends ever lose their high value if you spread them out a bit and have quite a number of them?

I’m not friend stingy anymore; rather, I’m guessing I’m friend greedy nowadays.

I’ve come far enough to realize that a life without friends is a lonely one.  And I’ve also come far enough to realize that having more friends is better than having only ONE friend. 

And here’s where the age question comes back in.  Does it matter what age my friends are?  I’ve heard it said that when we are in a group, we naturally gravitate towards the folks we feel least threatened by. 

What does it say when I find myself carrying a conversation with 2-year-old Ishmael?  (I love to touch his light roast coffee bean colored skin and tight, curly hair.)  Does it mean I’m a 2-year-old when I talk to him?

Or what if I enjoy going for a ride with my friend Dallas, as he shows me some of the history of this area?  He is 40 years older than me.  Am I 86 years old on that ride?   

Toss the age question out, if you will. 

I’m glad I have friends that vary in age.  Makes life much more interesting.

Like my friend Amber, who is 16, and with whom I share a twosome writing group.  Who more than likely will do a better job than I did at our shared assignment of writing something with the word coffee in it that can’t reference the drink and must be in adjective form.