Answering the Call

As people age and move various times to different locales, people tend to make new friends. That's what I hear, anyway. There are the friends that become surrogate families, the people you strive to see and feel so, so close to even if you see them every other year (at best), and there are the people you see regularly and socially that become that new social network, if you will, that sustains your need for social interaction.

The people outside my family that I spend the most time with are work colleagues. And these people, by and large, I like very much and with whom I am quite friendly. But, we don't make social dates very often, unless it's to a bar once or twice a year. Then we have the parents of kids my kid is friendly with, and, right now, this is probably our closest and most often seen social group. There are some couple friends that we met since moving to Long Beach that I at least see with some regularity, but that's mostly turned into Corrie telling me to go out with the boys every once in a while. They don't have kids.

There's Victor. There's Johnny Dang.

There're the buddies from college whom I love, but rarely see, and oddly, still consider them in the innermost circle of friendship.

And then, for us, there's even the couple we met at the pizza shop who have a daughter a little younger than our boy, and who, because of compatibility with us, have become somewhat of odd, interloping inner-circle folks. Because we're not from LA and have lived far, far away from "home," we tend to "get" foreigners. This particular couple was also not born in LA (he's from London, she's from Canada), but they felt the same love for our neighborhood that Corrie and I discovered. They're very similar to us in age, but a year older on both accounts (he's a year older than me, and she's a year older than Corrie); she works as an executive and he stays home with their daughter, an arrangement that Corrie and I mulled a decade ago.

This young lady, though is pregnant.

Well, was pregnant.

We've both moved in the last few weeks, and now we're even closer than before. We brought up in discussion that, hey, if necessary, if you ever need us to watch your daughter as you head to have the next baby, give us a call. They smiled and thanked us.

A couple weeks go by and we hang out again and they say, well, you know, there are a few days after my (the fella's) brother heads back to London and her sister won't quite be in from Toronto...maybe we could call you if we need?

Of course.

That window just closed. But...

Last night we got a text: "About 7-8 minutes between contractions. Not going anywhere until 3 min between, but if you can't help us, which is cool, now's the time to say so."

I responded: "Ready anytime. I even turned on my ringer."

That was acknowledged, and about two hours later, while Corrie was busy making brownies (don't ask), the text came in informing us that the contractions were at 3 minutes apart, and the time to come over was good.

I went over, had a few words with a paradoxically calm and flustered Londoner, and proceeded to chill on their couch, mostly sleeping, from 10 until 6 am, when Corrie and Cass showed up to spell me, so I could go home and get ready for work.

I was awoken a few times by the daughter, but everything was fine. Also, I realized that's the silver lining with having a child as difficult as the one we have: I FEEL LIKE I CAN HANDLE ANYBODY'S CHILD.

They had a baby boy before noon today, September 20th. I still don't know the new man's name. See, he's not even a young man yet, he's just a new man.

Congratulations Julie and Stephan!

As they were leaving last night, Stephan looked at me and asked, after he had showed me the important things, "So, you okay?" I assured him I was. He turned to Julie and asked, "You okay?"

She smiled and said, "I'll be fine for the next two minutes," with an eyebrow nod that said LET'S GO.

He turned back to me and said, "Hey man, seriously, thanks."

I said, "Thanks? I'm honored to be able to help you out like this. Thank you."

Sometimes it feels like we don't have any friends. And as we joked about the topic (before the Boy was born), we'd name nearly ten people that we would regularly see socially, or at least at parties, and feel comfortable talking to as if we were as close as would be the case had we known each other for far longer than reality states.

We left our hub for friends-as-family---San Luis Obispo---for Brooklyn. Surrounded by the country's largest city, and we essentially only had each other and Marc and Linda. The quick realization in Texas was that it was mostly just the two of us again, and here in Long Beach we'd just been accustomed to not having any friends.

Again, that's an exaggeration, and I know I have people I can rely on to hang out---if I ever called. Hell, my surprise birthday party this year brought out tons of folks from the LA woodwork.

It just felt nice to have people in our lives who felt close enough to us to ask us this favor, and trust us with their daughter.

At work today I beamed the entire time. I started my story with, "So, I slept on my friend's couch last night," and enjoyed the pensive looks and "What happened," line of questioning. I monitored my phone for news of the planet's new addition, and then I showed off the newborn's picture like an uncle. At that time, I didn't even know the sex.

I was not joking about being honored to be a part of their experience.

And I was honored to hold my nephew Norman on the day he was born, back in 2011, months after moving back to California. Sometimes the years between weird happenings helps sharpen the perspective.