Though it is only Thursday today, still mid-week, everything suggested holiday. The summer spirt has overtaken. The roads were quiet. Most were in no particular hurry. There was almost a dimness of sound – heightening the belief that everyone has abandoned the territory.
Of more animated content was an always welcome email I received from my friend JS who touched upon several points of interest. His first – and clearly to him the most important – was the need to share one’s experiences – or, more generally, what I might usefully characterize as the need to communicate. I will however acknowledge that the superlative form of sharing is immediate conversation. Extending that vernacular to electronic communications (telephone, email, message, text) is less valuable. And then there is my personal favourite – writing – a device which admits in my opinion to more tolerable variations of communication including the so-called “literary licence” (which of course is often a polite way to say codswallop or worse).
Writing as a means of communication is for me strengthened by the associated conversations I may subsequently have (usually now by email – but occasionally by a pool or over drinks or dinner) with people who – yes, you dear Reader – actually read the stuff. To me, the distinction of having a limited subscription or a qualified number of friends is no different. Particularly as one ages, the convenient boundaries for friendship narrow; and, accordingly the numbers decline – though frankly I have never said I had a lot of friends.
Backing up for a moment, I see that I have jumped over the underlying collateral to communication – and that is the person with whom one is conversing. Foremost communication is a 2-way process. As wonderful as a “good listener” may be, I much prefer reciprocal communication. Sometimes – as by chance recently happened to me – the listening process is unintended but nonetheless demanded. Listening – other than in the context of personal relationships – may amount to pure “sounding board” material which of course is more a duty or other prescription for welfare than the nutrition of a relationship.
Coming home today from my round-a-bout journey along the highways and country roads, I followed two enormous pieces of farming equipment which I suspect were destined for a nearby corn field. As I was in no rush, I followed safely. As did each of the other cars behind me. It was a reminder of the history of well-being in the county. It afforded several lovely views of adjoining farm properties as well as the occasional sight of a grand residence at the end of a long and winding road.
Last evening – from the report of a lately revived prep school colleague – I acquired additional intelligence about a friend whom I knew almost 60 years ago. The elongation of a relationship – by the effluxion of time or by any other circumstances – is evidence not of the evaporation of the relationship, rather of its sustenance. The mere fact that one preserves or maintains an interest (including at times an adverse curiosity) in the person is, to my thinking, evidence that the friendship – howsoever diminished – lives on (and may even unwittingly form part of the fabric of one’s soul). Friendship – like appetite – is too instinctive to be neglected as a trial. By the same token, becoming “estranged” from former friends does not mean the end, just a change of appetite. There is however nothing merited in relinquishing a possible mooring to the association. Not that one should imagine a revival – but neither should one dismiss the possibility.
Lastly – on this odd kind of a day – I toyed with my new car. Inadvertently I discovered how to initiate the hands-free driving. Initially I had thought the feature was only available through paid subscription but seemingly there is at the very least a free trial period. I activated the feature only while driving on a 4-lane highway, not while driving in an urban atmosphere. It performed wonderfully. After holding on for some time, I eventually removed my hands. No problem. But if I did anything to obstruct my view, the steering wheel began flashing green – and perhaps would have changed to red if I were to have continued my insolence (I was taking the photo that is the featured image). Meanwhile – apart from this and other equally extraordinary discoveries – I continue to adore the drive of the electric vehicle. The size fits. The weight and stance are ideal. The only difficulty I’ve unearthed is that Mr. Tesla did not make the cables from his Superchargers long enough to reach other vehicles. Yesterday I had to park my car sideways to an outlet to connect. I got away with it in that instance; but it is not assured that there would be sufficient space to do so on every occasion.
