Diehard

I woke up feeling nostalgic this morning. Retired now, I concluded it was time to get in touch with old friends. Oh, I run into some of them now and then, but it’s usually the same ole, same ole, “How you doin? How’s the wife and kids? Jeez, you look great (even if they don’t).” But the core friends from my youth are the ones I need to touch base with. We were all inseparable in those days. Okay. I’m going to make a day of it; contact as many of them as I can. I’ll start with Freddie Brooks.” And then, I remembered 2016. “Shit, man. He’s over that. He’s gotta be. That was just Politics.” During that miserable election, you know, when the FBI conspired with the Russians? When Comey refused to get in the middle of the nominee brouhaha? Yeah, that one. Well, I say that I am passionate about issues that affect people. My sig-oth tells me I am a loudmouth and that I yell my so-called “passion.” I guess I do.

I want change in politics. This two-party system sucks. With that thought in mind, Freddie and I had several discussions, one nearly fatal. Problem is, he is as compassionate oh his side of the issue as I am on my side of the issue, and never the twain could meet. We really got into it, but hey, friends can disagree and still be friends. Right? Well, truth be told I got a little out of hand. I mean, I guess name-calling that includes all the four-letter words known to man is a tad off base. But I knew our friendship which had stood the test of time, would withstand the onslaught of shit that I shoveled out. Apparently, I was wrong on that count too.

So my decision to spend time doing this connecting with old friends began with Freddie, and the anal purist that I am would not allow me to go to friend number two in the queue until I spoke with Freddie. After all, he was my number one friend, best bud, pride of place, and he deserved no less. I tried three times, but all I got was a disconnect and no voicemail. I wondered why.

The fourth time I tried, he answered in his slow southern drawl; “Well, as I live and breathe. What the hell do you want?”

“Freddie? What’s wrong? Did I say something that offended you?”

“Hell yes, you asshole. You did say something that offended me. Even offended my mother.” Somehow the long drawl made it sound worse, but I knew instantly what he was talking about.

“C’mon, Freddie. That was a couple of years ago. It was the election. You had your opinions too. Not the same as mine, but you were pretty bad too.”

He chuckled. “Bad? I wasn’t near as bad as you. When you let the politics interfere with your relationships, it’s time to keep your big mouth shut, with the emphasis on big. The names you called me. I don’t know if I can overlook that, even now. Friends just don’t call their friends what you called me. I wrote you off after that. Said I’d never talk to you again. You asshole.”

I was silent for around thirty seconds while I pondered the conversations we had just before the election. He waited me out, not saying a word. He was right, and I knew it. I had acted like a complete asshole when we last spoke. "Freddie? Damn it. When you're right, you're right. I was way off base that time. But it wasn't you” I pleaded. “It was the fact that I'm passionate about that stuff, and I couldn't make you see the light."

“You ain’t sayin’ what I gotta hear, boy.”

“Oh, yeah. I apologize, Freddie.”

And?”

“And I was a complete asshole.”

“And?”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you had a good point not agreeing with me. I mean the guy I voted for is no great shakes. I mean, he’s the real asshole here. Right?”

“Right as rain. But I still need more. We got an election coming up in 2020, and I’ll tell you what. I ain’t gonna take any more of your shit. You understand?”

I knew he was absolutely right with everything he said. I valued his friendship and hoped I could mend it and keep it close. And I truly did not want to discuss politics anymore. It did nothing but give me agita and depression, no matter the issue. It was time to quit. I was through with any political discussions, especially with friends. "Freddie, I promise you this. That shit we went through in 2016? I solemnly swear that is the very last time I will discuss politics with you or anyone else, for that matter. That was the last fucking time."

It was his turn to be quiet for what seemed like a full minute as I held my breath. Finally, after an audible sigh, he said. "Well, okay, then. I guess I can forget about all that shit. It's been weighing on my mind since it happened. Time to get rid of it now. Yeah, we can be friends again. I'm glad we got that out of the way."

Relieved, I said, “Okay then. Maybe we can meet for lunch next week. That good for you?”

"Absolutely," he said.

I finished the conversation with, "I'll give you a call at the beginning of the week, and we can set it up, okay?"

"Okay."

And just before I hung up, I asked, "By the way, who are you voting for in 2020?"

When I called the next week to set our luncheon up, I got a recording from the phone company that said the number had been changed to an unlisted number. I wonder why he did that.