Kassiquan

Friendship



“A FRIEND is one to whom one may pour out all the contents of one’s heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.”

George Eliot

Mary Anne Evans (November 22 1819 to December 22 1880) was known by her “pen name” George Eliot.  She was an English writer and poet.  Unlike other women writers of the Victorian era, Mary decided to use a pen name to move from the stereotype of women limited to writing romance novels; having her fictional writing judged separately from being a well-known editor and critic; and, shields her private life from possible scandal seeing a married man.

I am a collector of little plaques that have quotes about friendships written on them.  The quote above was inscribed on a tiny wooden one that hung from a wall in my living room.  I bought the plaque a long time ago at a flea market sponsored by the Sunday School Breakfast Association down the side street from where I worked.  The inscription on it was a reminder of the special friendship that developed between me and a co-worker.  Friendships are very important to me; they are unique and rare, like finding a treasure hidden in a field.  Ben Johnson said, “True happiness consists not in the multitude of friends but in their worth and value.”  I have quite a few friends, many but only few I will always treasure.  This will be a brief story of one these friendships.



I met Rob at my very first full-time job.  We worked in the garment industry; factory work in the shipping department.  Rob stamped and packed the boxes for shipments to Lane Bryant, Montgomery Ward and Roman.  I did all the bagging and sealing, filling up the bins for Rob to stamp and pack.  During the first few months, I kept mostly to myself.  The women who folded the garments and waited for me to grab the piles of bagging and sealing always chatted away in Spanish.  Rob had a partner who worked with him, Jonathan and they chatted away, too.  Jonathan was later fired, too much talking and work was backing up.  My fault!  I bagged and sealed keeping up with the women’s folding and caused Rob and Jonathan to be backed up with me waiting for empty bins.  Our boss was not happy and soon Jonathan was gone.  I decided I better help Rob to stay caught up; go back to bagging and sealing and go back again to help Rob.



A year later, we became friends.  We talked to each other while keeping the pace of our jobs.  Sometimes, we would switch places.  We were the only two guys working in shipping with women folding who chatted all day in Spanish.  We were the same age, born a month apart and knew the same girl from high school, Walinda.  We would talk about our families and things that went on at home.  We both still lived at home with our families.  Rob was a good listener and kept to heart when I shared about the domestic violence and abuse that went on at home.  In 1979, Rob bought a house and I went home with him to see it.  I was impressed.  I thought if Rob could buy a house on the salary we earned then so could I.  Rob knew why I wanted to buy house, to move my mother and sisters out from under my father’s abusiveness.



One afternoon at work, I told Rob that I would be moving my mother and my sisters out of the home into their own place.  I would need help.  Rob said he would come with me because he already knew the story I shared about my father having a gun against my chest threatening to pull the trigger.  I was 16 then and ran down the stairs heading towards my parent’s room to stop my father from beating on my mother (she was screaming) when my father stopped me at the bottom of the stairs.  When we arrived at the house, my mother mouthed from what used by my brother’s bedroom window that my father would not let them down the stairs.  I knocked on the door and my father opened it saw Rob and me standing there.  My father would not let Rob come into the house (my father did not like black people).  I knew it was going to be a long evening and I might have trouble moving my mother and sisters out.  I told Rob that he should just go home because I was not sure the move would be taking place.  My father shut the door.  It was summer and the front windows were open.  My father began, complaining about a lot of things; that he would not be able to raise his girls and love his wife.  I told him, “Beating on Mom, abusing and mistreating her is not loving your wife.  What kind of man does that to the woman he loves?”  I am moving her out.  It was dark outside by the time my father and me finished arguing back and forth.  My father feeling defeated called my mother and my sisters to come down.  With green trash bag filled with belonging in hand, we went to the front door and to my surprise, Rob was still waiting outside.  Grabbing the rest of my mother and sisters’ belongings, we walked to my house to drop everything off, with the other things that my mother has slowly taken throughout the previous month.



The next day at work Rob told me why he did not go home; he wanted to be sure that my father would not be crazy enough to use his gun on us.  I had already prayed that all would work out prior to getting my mother and sisters out of the house.  Rob is a treasure and I valued his friendship ever since that night.  I told Rob that I would identify him with Proverbs 18:24, “A man that has friends must show himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.”  Rob knew I was a Christian, while he listened to his music at his table, I would listen to mine, Gospel Radio.  Rob did not mind listening to me when I talked about my faith and what I believed; what God has done for me.  Rob knows I do not do the “preaching thing, the ‘hell, fire and brimstone’ talk.  Rob was seeing the life I was living and that is all he needed.  One day I mentioned to Rob about accepting Christ as Savior.  Rob told me then that he was not ready.  I just replied, “Rob, you are my best friend and love you and value your friendship.  When I get to heaven, I really hope I get to see my best friend there.”  Rob became the Godfather to my sister’s first born, Nate.  A few years later we are no longer working in the garment industry but at different jobs and we had not spoken for quite some time (Rob was not a “telephone guy”).  One evening Rob called me at home to inform me of his brother’s passing and invited me to attend the service held at the church at which his brother was active in ministry.  After the celebration of Rob’s brother’s life, the pastor stated that one of Rob’s brother’s final wishes was that his family gets saved.  At the pastor’s invitation to accept Christ, Rob was the first to walk up to the altar.  I had tears in my eyes; because I knew Rob remembered our conversation and he wanted to make sure that I would witness his decision; Rob was ready to accept Christ.



Rob, should you be reading this, I want you to know that you will always have a special place in my heart.  I love you; you are “A Friend” who stuck closer than a brother.  The following song I wrote quite some time ago; dedicated to you; and to the few friends who are dear to me.