All-the-Time Friend

In an unusual act of stepping out of my routine, I stopped singing along to a Mariah Carey song and listened instead. On this occasion, the song was Anytime You Need a Friend. I was in my car, and Mariah was claiming that anytime I needed a friend, she would be there. She was pretty emphatic about it.

But anytime is such a broad term. Never fear. She breaks down this offer of friendship to a few simple conditions:

• If I’m lonely, she will be there
• If troubles seem like they never end, she will be there
• When the shadows close in, she will be there
• When my spirit diminishes, she will be there

Well, that list doesn’t do me any good at all. I’m rarely in a state of loneliness or enveloped in shadow. Still, the song, in that moment, had a transformative effect on me. I felt a surge of sentimentality and nearly reached the dew point. Nearly.

So why all this welling up inside? The song made me think of my interaction with my friends. I realized that whenever I reached out to them, however trivial the reason, I was in need of their friendship. On the surface, you could classify my call or text or drop in as unimportant. I’m saying hello, that’s all. My tires aren’t flat. My wallet isn’t empty. My spirits aren’t in the dumps. But make no mistake. I am after something. And that’s the reassurance that I have a friend. If they welcome me by saying hello back, I’m at peace. I’m happy. I’m sane. They keep Mariah’s list of conditions at bay. That’s what my friends do for me, anytime I need them, which is all the time.

First the surge of emotion, then the gush, as they say. I couldn’t keep this discovery to myself.  I had to share. With my friend Mike. While we were camping. He was basically cornered. Now Mike describes himself as a high-functioning anxiety disorder. This is the sort of guy who often feels he’s not much good to friends. I know this because I asked him point blank. I had to. I was laying the foundation to tell him how important his friendship was to me, which probably made him more anxious.

Regardless, I told him that even the smallest effort to connect with me was a huge contributor to my well-being. Whenever I said Marco, and he responded with Polo, the feeling was sublime.

The song helped me realize that the simple exchanges with my friends are not simple at all. They’re more like mini cries for help. A favorable response is the rescue. And my friends, without them knowing, perhaps, are rescuing me every day.

Of course, my effusiveness made Mike feel uncomfortable. What? Is he now supposed to gush in return? Had I been a better friend, I would have written my tribute to him and made him recite it with me. After all, I’m never uncomfortable when Mariah professes her devotion to me while I sing along.