Have you ever thought about what the word, “classic” means? The dictionary will tell you it refers to something of the highest order or class, something that is established and enduring.
We talk about classic architecture, art, music or literature. We watch a perfectly restored 1964 Pontiac GTO drive by us, on a Sunday afternoon and we smile and say, “Wow. Now, that’s a real classic.” We might even make a reference to a “classic” mistake that we made in our investments, or with some embarrassing, casual chitchat at a party.
But let’s get this down to a personal level. Let me tell you what “classic” means to me. It means the subject matter is no longer on trial by society.
But it means more than that. It not only means the subject is not on trial; it means the person encountering it is on trial. In other words, the music of Bach is a classic, so if you do not like it, maybe you still have some studying to do. There may be something lacking in your musical education that precludes you from fully enjoying all the aspects of great music. Bam! Bach skates through effortlessly and you just got convicted. The problem is you, not Bach. That’s a bullet-proof definition of classic.
If you were lucky enough to sit with someone as knowledgeable as pianist Van Clybourn, to listen to a recording of Bach’s Two-part Inventions performed by Glenn Gould, he might be inspired to say to you, “We have just heard a classic performance.” He means the music, as just performed, is no longer on trial. Both the composer and the artist have experienced periods of scrutiny and criticism and they have survived, intact. Today, nobody even considers the possibility of criticizing Bach and damn few misguided souls would take on the artistry of Glenn Gould, at the keyboard.
Many years ago, I had a good friend who was an opera freak. He invited me to attend a Leontyne Price concert and asked me to go backstage afterward to get his program autographed. As we stood in line, someone ahead of us said to her, “Ms. Price, have you ever considered singing some popular songs?” Her reply (I swear this is a direct quote) was, “Ooh-La-La. Waste of good voice.” What did you expect? She was a diva and fully understood the value of dramatic word choices. She was also from Mississippi, so I don’t know where she picked up the “Ohh-La-La” but I do know she knew classics when she saw them. And clearly, she knew how to appreciate a classic.
Which brings us to friendships.
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art…
it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give
value to survival.” -C.S. Lewis
History teaches us repeatedly that to go through life with no friends is to not live, at all. It is a given that man is a social animal. I accept that sharing a life with other people is essential to self actualization, but I am interested in examining the idea that quality of relationships may be at least as important, and probably more so, than quantity.
“The good man is self-sufficing, but friends are
desirable, if not actually necessary to him, as giving
scope for the exercise of beneficent activities,
not as conferring benefits upon him. Besides, man’s
highest activities must be exercised not in isolation,
but as a member of society and such life lacks
completeness if without friends.
Finally, friendship attains its completest
realization where comradeship is complete;
that is to say, in a common life”. -Aristotle
I have lived on Earth for a relatively long time and I’m sure I have met tens of thousands of people in one way or another and heard them recite tens of thousand of names and shaken my hand tens of thousands of times. In each case, the moment was undoubtedly a pleasant one, but almost without fail, they have each been mostly forgotten, by me. No doubt I have been forgotten by most of them.
I know people who seem to have friends in every city. They are forever dashing off on an airplane to visit someone in some far away place, or picking up the phone or pecking out a quick text message. They seem to “tweet” all day long. On some level, I envy these people, but I have never been able to talk myself into the idea of following their example.
“See, in any house where virtue and self-respect
abide, the palpitations which the approach of a
stranger causes. A commended stranger, is expected
and announced, and an uneasiness betwixt pleasure
and pain invades all the hearts of a household.
His arrival almost brings fear to the good hearts that
would welcome him. The house is dusted, all things fly
into their places, the old coat is exchanged for the new, and they
must get up a dinner, if they can. –Ralph Waldo Emerson
There are a lot of people I have met along life’s journey who are important to me and I am always gratified and edified, when our paths cross and we can “catch up” with each other. There are others, who I no longer see for various reasons, but I think about them. I remember good times with them and would like to see them, again. These friendships are precious and I am lucky to have them.
“Only those are to be judged friendships
in which the characters have been strengthened
and matured by age.” -Cicero
In recent years, I find myself thinking about a very small number of specific relationships in my life, that seem to have taken on a life of their own. It is as though my choices relating to that relationship have been set aside and the bonds of friendship now guide and shape me, rather than me shaping the friendship. If one of these friends hurt me or angered me in some way, I would be powerless to end the relationship. If my friend were hurt or damaged in some way, I would be powerless to refuse any form of aid that was available to me. The friendship inexorably becomes inviolate and permanent. It becomes a thing of strength, seamless and unbreakable. If I were not to see my friend for years, the absence would not lessen the friendship. The dynamic of the thing changes and it now becomes my duty to live up to the friendship, by honoring my friend.
“Love one another with brotherly affection.
Out do one another in showing honor.” -Romans 12:10
It becomes essential to offer my friend the space and support to progress and change and expand. From my perspective, the relationship is not defined by what my friend can offer me, but rather by what I can offer my friend. There is an ancient story told of Eudamidas, a poor man who lived in Corinth and his two wealthy friends, Charixenus and Aretheus. In his will, Eudamidas said, “I leave this to Aretheus, to feed my mother and support her in her old age; this to Charixenus, to see my daughter married and give her the biggest dowry he can; and in case one of them should chance to die, I substitute the survivor in his place.” Both men accepted the will and five days after Eudamidas’ death, Charixenus also died. Aretheus accepted sole responsibility and completely discharged his responsibilities under the will, to both the mother and daughter. Such are the markings of a classic friendship.
The chosen path of my friend does not have to include me, nor does it have to agree with my thoughts or beliefs. Great friendships of history have almost always included an element of friction that has strengthened and grown the friendship. Diamonds are polished by friction.
One of the great, classic friendships of history was between Etienne de La Boetie and Michel de Montaigne, both sixteenth century writers, who initially became acquainted in 1558 in Bordeaux, through a mutual respect for each other’s work. They quickly developed a strong bond, which lasted four years, until La Boetie died of the plague. After his friend’s death, Montaigne wrote extensively of the love he held for his friend. Perhaps, there is no better summation of the idea of classic friendship, than his words:
“The ancient Menander declared that man happy who had been able to meet even the shadow of a friend. He was certainly right to say so, especially if he spoke from experience. For in truth, if I compare all the rest of my life – though by the grace of God I have spent it pleasantly, comfortably, and, except for the loss of such a friend, free from any grievous affliction, and full of tranquility of mind, having accepted my natural and original advantages without seeking other ones – if I compare it all, I say, with the four years which were granted me to enjoy the sweet company and society of that man, it is nothing but smoke, nothing but dark and dreary night. Since the day I lost him, I only drag on a weary life. And the very pleasures that come my way, instead of consoling me, redouble my grief for his loss. We went halves in everything; it seems to me that I am robbing him of his share. I was already so formed and accustomed to being a second self everywhere that only half of me seems to be alive now. There is no action or thought in which I do not miss him, as indeed he would have missed me. For just as he surpassed me infinitely in every other ability and virtue, so he did in the duty of friendship.”