The Gift and Strength of Lifelong Friendships
Yesterday I hung out with a friend I haven’t seen since we graduated from veterinary school in 2003.
We were a hilarious pair twenty-some years ago.
The year before entering (The University of Pennsylvania) Penn’s veterinary school, J and I met while working in a parasitology laboratory at the vet school research facility.
This was an odd job for many reasons, and was my first big girl job after college. We harvested parasitic worm larvae from huge piles of dog shit that we collected, daily. Once we got the larvae out of the poo, and bathed them so we had a pellet of microscopic worms, we did painstakingly did laser ablations on chemotactic and thermotactic control centers, ran a bunch of experiments, and then killed the worms and did a bunch of sciencey stuff to these tiny larvae — who we ultimately turned into micrometer thick slivers on electron microscopy slides.
It was interesting for sure. Also, weird as shit. I was still trying to climb out of my bong — so it was all a little surreal at the time. Suddenly I was dealing with research colony dogs, artifically infected with a parasite that doesn’t occur naturally in this area. Why is or was it important? Uh. Science? World Health Organization said so, implications in food animal production models, public health threat as a disease vector, you know, that kind of hogwash.
My intent had always been to go to vet school, but I didn’t apply during my last year of college. Instead, I strategically got a job at the veterinary school, and worked in a parasitology lab for a year while I applied and waited to interview. This
The job in the parasitology lab was strange for almost every reason. Except for location. The location was excellent — second floor of Rosenthal building. Windows. Large lab. I was a pseudo-adult who took the train from the burbs into west Philadelphia, despite how confoundingly difficult that was for me to navigate that on a twice daily basis with my extremely high levels of unmedicated anxiety.
The laboratory was run by an eccentic, exhuberant, tender hearted and barrel chested professor named Dr. Gerhardt Schad. His sidekick, partner in crime and science, and at times his adult supervision — was another enigmatic man named Dr. Francis Ashton.
For all of the large, loud, garrulous and chaos that Dr. Schad embodied, Dr. Ashton was a slight wisp of a man, who wore the same outfits every day and carried a brown bag tuna sandwich to lunch, every day. Dr. Ashton was a creature of habit — extremely predictable, dependable and unwaveringly repetitive in his daily routine and tasks. In contrast, Dr. Schad was an unpredictable cyclone of intense emotion (in the years following his beloved wife’s passing), brilliant ideas, and creator of kind scheming and mischief — all in the name of fun.
They balanced each other out perfectly.
Chubby and thin, loud and quiet, hairy and hairless, messy and neat, unpredictable and steady.
I could go on and on about these two men. How remarkable and kind and how very human they were to me, at a time when I was such a hot wreck, it’s hard to believe I was even a functional human. I didn’t know it. They didn’t know it.
Anyway — those two old dudes ran the lab, and four vet school hopefuls, of which I was one, rounded out the rest of staff jobs. Two women, two men. They were like our platonic gay work dads — and we were their four rag tag work kids. Quadruplets. Running around the lab, sifting through dog shit, harvesting for parasitic nematodes to torture in the name of science, and in the name of getting into veterinary school.
The girl — the one besides me — became what I now know to be, a lifelong friend named J. The sort of friend where no matter how much time has passed, the natural rhythm, exchange and intimacy feels familiar, instantly comfortable and endlessly welcoming. Like a parrafin wax layer enveloping your hand in silky weighless luxurious texture — lifelong friendships soothe like nothing else in this world. Like a balm for every fucking thing that ails you.
God, I’m taking a long ass time to explain this. My friend from the lab — we hit it off early. As that year went on, we lunched together, introduced our significant others, shared drinks outside of work. Things normal people do.
At work- we cackled. We hooted and hollered. Giggles were commonplace. We laughed so hard we were sure we were dying. We got paid to work, and we did the tasks. Also, we took care of our old quirky man-bosses, who seemed to need the TLC of two younger ladies who know how to care for people, as they had found themselves widowers in the time that we knew them. Despite the sadness in their lives as their wives passed, J and I, along with our other lab-mates, kept it lively and all of us laughed our asses off the entire time.
By the time the vet school admissions were happening, and we’d all applied for acceptance the same year —things were a bit tense. We all worried about getting in, we were all (kind-of) direct competition for each other, which felt odd. The unimaginable happened and all four of us got in. All four of us were elated. The old men (our bosses) were so pleased, and so proud of us. We were their baby ducklings! There is no doubt that they had something to do with our admission and subsequent successes. Directly or indirectly.
For all of us, getting into veterinary school was a pivotal moment — one that defined our career trajectories and how we might spend the rest of our lives, in accordance with each of our personal dreams.
When I saw J yesterday, I was instantly reminded that there are some people in this world that I click with, in some magical and perfect complementary way. I was reminded of how good and familiar that feels, in a world where you walk around not getting any or enough of that. Upon reflecting on how uncanny it was to feel the way I did after so much time, it became clear to me that J fits in to the lifelong friend category. We aren’t best friends, she doesn’t know each of my quirks ad nauseam, the sound of my chewing probably doesn’t even register with her — she’s not my wife — after all! My point is, there are life long friends who are best best close close friends, and lifelong friends who aren’t, and having any type mutually beneficial friendship can be lifelong. The good news, to me anyway, was that I didn’t have to force anything. No force. Just fucking be. And the lifelong friends find you when the timing is auspicious.
For some folks, some of these lifelong friendships come from childhood.
I believe you collect them throughout your lifetime. A lifelong friend you met as a 12 years old is no more or less valuable than one you found at 40, or 58 years of age. The strength of the bonds in lifelong friendships are some of the strongest I’ve seen, often stronger in different and more lasting ways than many marriages.
I have a handful of lifelong friends. I cherish each and every one of them, though I probably don’t say it, or think about it consciously as much as I have just written about it.
I google searched a bit about lifelong friends as I toyed with what to write about this early morning. Attributable solely to seeing J yesterday, I awoke feeling rejuvenation and gratification, despite last night’s sleep deprivation.
Simply thinking about the infinite gifts that friendships provide us throughout our lives can become overwhelming. The importance of friendship, to me, is paramount to quality of life, survival and not being a really sad bitch.
