A Lesson in the Physics of Friendship

Two thirds of the best people I know were side by side across a table from me on Thursday night, while two more of the highest quality people life will ever chuck at you occupied either side of me, and all I could manage was a single gritty, pixelated cell phone shot of the night. Fool.

But my foolishness was pure bliss. I haven't felt that fortunate in awhile, at least, not in that completely unnecessary way...you know, the way good luck feels when you stumbled into it, not when it's planted, nurtured and harvested...this was just unfiltered happenstance that these four friends and I were tipping pint glasses, laughing, losing ourselves in shared and often times deeply consuming side conversations. You don't set out in life to secure these kinds of friendships. They just happen, and not often enough.

My friends Andrew, and Keith, and Mitch, and Matty are easy yo brag about, so I do, and often. It's an obvious enough characteristic of the group of people that sat around a crowded table on Thursday night that it was noted out loud, by each of us in turn, and on several spontaneous occasions. It's an exercise in the energy of good people if you wanted to explore the phenomenon further.

Keith carries with him the weight of several hundred admirers, all quite impressive I'd guess. His sister and her husband, responsible for my introduction to Keith, are impressive people...a prosthetic engineer, and a teacher. Amazing human beings.

Andrew's wife, Michelle, is beautiful and kind, and a favorite of my my own wife. She loves her, and that's no exaggeration. It's easy to imagine adoring Michelle. She takes advantage of her art school education by designing plush toys and puppets and accessories with re-purposed materials for children. Paralyzingly cool.

Andrew's family, his parents, his sisters whom I'm most familiar with, are unfathomably incredible people, equal parts cool and contented, overwhelmingly close, kind...oh so kind.

Matty, whom I became instant friends with what seems like a billion years ago, is as intelligent a man as I know, and his own wife, Jill, is impressively thoughtful and sweet.

Together the group is a living, breathing, laughing experiment in the boundless magnetic power of impressive people. It's always a selfish, indulgent feeling when you soak yourself in their company but it's often difficult to find any less satisfaction when sharing them with others. They often make the others so much more impressive themselves.

It was a consuming night of smiles and even sighs. I don't know where we were. I don't. I read the sign but forgot it the instant another conversation started. We nearly forgot to eat. We paid no attention to the bill, nor to the hour long wait for a table. We were just happy to imagine a world that feels that good every day. It wasn't just what I needed, it was what each of us human beings are desperately looking for every day. When loving and feeling loved intersect it explains a lot toward believing in magic.