Honestly, man, what is with some people? I am really beginning to wonder.

Case in point: A friend of mine was in town visiting from Philly a couple of weeks ago. More accurately, Rich is more like the friend of the family of a friend, or vice versa, or something like that. It’s complicated, but it’s not.

Bottom line: This guy is like family to me. I would do anything for the guy, and I am fully confident that he would do the same for me.

It takes minimal examination to reveal that we are in fact an odd pair of pals, Rich and I. We hail from entirely different parts of the country, resulting in clashes of culture, accent and team of choice. Phillies, please! Why root for a potential winner when you have the Cubs as an option.

Rich works with his hands. I work in a chair. Our styles differ in almost every way. I don’t know where he stands politically. It doesn’t much matter to me. Still, it would not surprise me a bit if we were to find ourselves at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Now, we have a few things in common, Rich and I. We share a passion for Beatles music, for instance. I am certain he would rather dig the souped-up version of Octopus’ Garden I just heard, which conjured his image for this post. But that’s not it, not at all.

We both love guitar, maybe that’s it. No, no it’s not. Rich is exceptional on the instrument. He’s been playing for a lifetime, and it shows. Guitar is a lifestyle for him, and he collects axes like baseball cards. Each one he plays is an extension of him. If I am a student in Guitar 101, Rich is the ever-patient maestro.

But, to be honest, that’s not it either. Rich and I connect through music. I cherish that connection. I really do.
But we don’t need it. It’s just a vessel for our friendship, something to talk about when we get together.

So, about my original question: what is with some people, people like Rich. Well, it seems to me that some people exude such an innate goodness, a natural kindness, that it entirely permeates their being. I’ll bet anything you know someone like Rich. They not only put you at ease, but it makes you happy just to be around them. I just love and admire people like that. I suppose I aspire to be a person like that.

And I am not so naive as to think that good stuff in life just comes to these people, that their lives are somehow devoid of the demons so busily occupying the souls of “the rest of us”, such that their good nature comes easily to them. Not at all. Rich himself has in fact shared with me dreadful tales of his own chronic, sometimes debilitating anxiety. Like the rest of us, the course of his life has been as jagged as it has been smooth.

That, I suppose, is what makes heroes like him all the more remarkable. He can count himself among those unusual beings who can rake embers of joy, and not just their own, from the ashes of despair. And this appears effortless, natural. That quality takes my breath away.

In the end, I have to admit my ignorance. I don’t know what it is with some people.

But I do know this. The message from Rich and his kind is abundantly clear.

Now, I want to say it’s all about availability, that I somehow coined the culminating term. And yes, of course, I believe availability is an important component of the character of these people.

But the real core of it, I believe, was discovered by a couple of mismatched lads, buddies forty-plus years ago:

All you need is love. Love is all you need.