FAMILY MATTERS
Seeing the years through another's eyes lends perspective

By Michael C. DeMattos

It had been one year since I had seen him last, the first time since the brief weekend of our class reunion 10 years before.

And here he was, my best friend throughout high school, staying the night with my family and me, in the here and now.

He was different of course, gray showing around his temples, and while he was still his own man, it was clear that he carried the years with him. I suppose he would say the same of me.

Friendships that stand the test of time are rare. Rarer still are those that seem to end only to be born anew years later. Such was the case for my friend and me.

We were rock 'n' roll rebels charged with the arduous task, like the rest of our peers, of forming an identity while still finding a way to fit in. If grade school is the cradle of friendship, then high school is surely the crucible.

It often felt like trial by fire, a world that seemed to reward sellouts and imposters. But we were different. Just like everyone else.

Our bible was a migrating tome of escapist fantasy, and our preachers had names like Tolkien, Moorcock, LeGuin, Beagle and Burrows. FM radio was too "mainstream" for us; we preferred the album rock of our era and sang the 18-minute cannons complete with banshee-like guitar solos, alien keyboards and tribal drums. One band in particular, RUSH, became the soundtrack for our lives. We were simultaneously a part of our world and apart from our world. Just like everyone else.

Then sometime during the summer before my senior year we drifted apart. The reasons were numerous, though there was no trial held, nor verdict levied. There was no guilt. We changed at the speed of life.

Now, more than 20 years later, he was unpacking his bag for the night while my wife and I stood in the doorway, arm in arm, asking if he needed anything. We knew the answer, of course. The night was a fine cocktail for the soul, one part reminiscing, one part making up for lost time and two parts looking to the future.

Still, it seemed that every third sentence was a song lyric or book quote that conjured a knowing smile from the two of us.

Like me, he was older, wiser, weathered but not broken. He had a family of his own, which was reflected in our conversation, much of which revolved around our children. I could tell that he was happy and that despite his many achievements he had more goals in front of him than accomplishments behind him.

Life is funny; we spend so much time striving, only to find that who we have become is the same person we have always been. Sometimes we need to see ourselves through the eyes of another to fully appreciate this fact.

Mine has been a life of gentle meandering, the reader, writer, rock 'n' roll rebel alive and well in words found in the lyrics of long-forgotten songs. I am sure that at times it seems more like serendipity than life plan, but not all who wander are lost.

I find it comforting that after all these years we have found friendship again and that we are, for better or worse, more ourselves than ever before.

"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose."

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Family therapist Michael C. DeMattos has a master's degree in social work.