love and friendship in the rubble

Feliz el día del amor y la amistad.

Valentine's Day is one of those holidays that has seeped into almost all of the world's cultures. And why not? Who is going to interfere with celebrating the ones we love?*

Mexico goes one step further (as you can see in my greeting to you) by celebrating not only those we love romantically but those we have chosen to call our friends.

Last week I ran across an essay by William A. Virchis that sums up the importance of the day in Mexico. Let me share it with you.

In Mexico, we celebrate Valentine’s Day on Feb. 14 similarly to the United States, but we celebrate the day as a day of friendship, not necessarily of romantic love. It’s a day of deeper love for deeper friendships. Besides true love has to start with true friendship. My greatest valentines have been incredible women and men, including my incredible family, starting with M.C., mi cariño, my best friend, who has always been by my side in all the ups and downs life brings. Valentines, it’s a day to remember the trident of love: to protect, to provide and to profess.

I like that because it has the ring of truth about it. "True love has to start with true friendship."

But true friendship is an end itself. And I do not mean that list of "friends" that clutters your Facebook dashboard. Somewhere along our paths through life, we have managed to confuse acquaintances, pepole who constitute a very important element in our lives, with our friends.

I have never counted more than four people as friends at any point in my life. And there is a good reason for that. The qualifications for friendship are high. 

A friend is someone with whom you can share the heights of joys and then confess the darkest secrets of your life that you might not even share with a spouse. They are the girl in third-grade who gave you her twinkie because you did not have dessert. Or your chum in sixth grade who sat with you while you cried for fear that the other boys would see you.

She is the person who stood up for you when everyone else deserted you, and then lovingly told you why they had -- not to change who you are, but to offer comfort and personal growth. And, though you did not want to hear what she said, you listened because her voice was filled with love and grace.

He is guy you can call at any time on the telephone and start chatting where you left off. No matter what you tell him, he accepts you for who you are and does not try to mold you into being his creation.

And true friends are there no matter how desperately bad your situation is and how nasty you are in return to an offered hand. They see us at our worst -- and they remain our friends in spite of it. Or maybe because of it.

If you are baffled by the photograph above, I can understand why. Why on earth would Mexpatriate feature a stack of Legos on St. Valentine's Day?

Well, they are not Legos. They are plastic containers built into a concrete out building.

The moment I took the shot, I wanted to call my friend Ed Gilliam (the death of a friend) to have one of our long conversations about art. Were the crates-in-the-wall art? Had I created art by taking the photograph? Had I created a different piece of art by cropping the photograph? It was the type of conversation that would keep us talking for hours while Roxane rolled her eyes at our pretentiousness.

But, I cannot call him. He is dead. I now have the conversation on my own.

A fellow who attends our church, Robert Lyons, had a brilliant idea for today. In the spirit of Mexican Friendship Day, he invited single people he knew, who he cheerily referred to as "Valentine orphans," to gather this afternoon at his home for sandwiches and games.

I was honored to be asked. But gatherings of this nature do not appeal to me. Yesterday, I thanked him, but told him I would not be there.

So, where does that leave us on this day of love and friendship?

For me, it means that I have decided to attend Robert's party.

I have often railed on Facebook that people are far too prone to advertise their personal grievances with the full community rather than talking directly with the person who has aggrieved. I understand why. It is far more difficult to have those conversations in person. It is easier to set them up for public acrimony in the digital equivalent of Puritan stocks in the town square. Talking with them personally actually has the possibility of resolving hurt on both sides. Perhaps healing (or creating) a relationship.

But to do that, we need respect for one another, and respect is born out of relationships.

If I do not see you at the party or at a celebratory dinner tonight, let me once again wish you Feliz el día del amor y la amistad. 

And like those plastic crates, we may find the art of friendship in our lives.  

* -- Of course, there are always spoilsports like Iran and Pakistan who equate the day with being another example of Western decadence -- even though a large portion of their populations celebrate the day in secret. Love will out.