What it means to be forever changed by a life-long friendship | Opinion
“Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things already made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more.”
With this statement, the fox begins to tell the Little Prince the secrets of friendship in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s timeless classic, “The Little Prince.”
When the Little Prince meets the fox, he is in the midst of an exhaustive search for friends. He is very lonely. And so, without hesitating, he says to the fox, “Come and play with me, … I am so unhappy.”
The fox knows that there are steps that must be taken before he can play with the Little Prince. He knows one does not just jump right in without the preliminary acts that create a closeness that invites play.
Opinion
“‘I cannot play with you,’ the fox said. ‘I am not tamed.’”
The Little Prince’s curiosity is piqued. He really wants a friend, and so he asks the fox, “‘What does that mean — tame?’”
And the wise fox responds that to tame means to “establish ties.”
And, thus, the Little Prince begins a journey wherein he learns that making a friend requires time, effort, thought and commitment.
The Little Prince observed the proper rites, invested his time and his heart, and he tamed the fox.
When it came time for the Little Prince to depart to continue on his quest, he returned to the fox to say goodbye. This is when the fox revealed a secret to his friend: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”
Have you ever been “tamed”?
I have.
I was entering my sophomore year at Salinas High School. I was extremely shy and introverted. I had few friends. I was an excellent student, and maintaining a perfect grade point average was my only concern.
On the first day of classes, I noticed a girl who seemed to be in every class that I was assigned to. “Funny,” I thought, “I wonder who she is.”
Salinas High was the only secondary school for 50 miles in any direction at that time, and the student body was necessarily large. It was extremely unusual for two students to share every class in that setting. But that’s what happened.
By the sixth period of that first day, the girl I had noticed came up to me, smiled and said, “Hi, my name’s Bobbie. We might as well be friends because it looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
I was careful. I didn’t have a lot of experience with the rites that nurture and establish friendship. I was open to Bobbie’s friendly overtures, but I didn’t want to have unrealistic expectations that this outgoing, friendly, always-smiling girl with legions of friends really wanted to be my friend.
Bobbie was patient. And she was persistent. And she was, in her own way, careful. She did not put undue pressure on me. She was just there. And she calmly assumed that, eventually, we would be friends.
She tamed me.
As it turned out, Bobbie Taylor became the very best friend I’ve ever had. And, as the fox stated, we became responsible for each other in the way that very best friends always do.
We attended football games, played intramural sports and sang in the school choir. This being the ’50s, we dragged Main Street in her 1957 Ford Convertible. I spent weekends at her house. Her parents loved me. I learned to cook from her mother.
Bobbie opened my eyes to a whole world of wonderful experiences just waiting for me beyond my books and perfect grade point average. I blossomed emotionally and socially. I did keep my perfect grade point average, and graduated 12th in our class of over 700 students. But because of Bobbie, I was a complete human being, full of life and hope, and open to the joy of every new experience.
Our friendship only grew deeper during the time we spent together at Hartnell College in Salinas.
My then boyfriend, Wally, and I went to Reno with Bobbie and Mike Steindorf when they eloped.
When I was the victim of clergy sexual abuse, was pregnant with my minister’s child, was blamed, vilified and then sent out with the command, “Go away and tell no one,” Bobbie was the one — the only one — I told. She held me when I finally cried. Virtually everyone within the church — even my own mother — blamed me.
Bobbie was a member of no church. But she alone personified to me the message of the Gospel: “A friend loveth at all times.”
She and her mother made the dresses for my bridesmaids when I was married.
She made my firstborn the Teddy bear he treasured. It is still on display in my home along with many other mementos of the deep and enduring friendship Bobbie and I never outgrew.
Bobbie asked me to officiate at the renewal of her marriage vows on her and Mike’s 40th anniversary. Mike called a few days before the ceremony was to take place. “My best friend just died,” he said. His best friend? Yes, that described their relationship. And I knew the pain of that loss. Because she was my best friend, too.
Instead of doing the renewal of vows, I did Bobbie’s funeral. The last gift I could give to the woman who patiently invested her time and her heart and would not take no for an answer. She established ties.
Bunny Stevens lives in Modesto, her hometown, and has served on The Modesto Bee Community Advisory Board. She is the opening courtesy clerk at the Safeway supermarket on McHenry Avenue and an ordained minister in the Universal Life Church. She has also been known to represent the Easter Bunny and Santa’s Elf for children of all ages. Reach her at BunnyinModesto@gmail.com
