EPISODE 334: PUT IT THERE

POP CULTURE SPIRIT WOW

I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship the last few months. As in, what does friendship look like? And how do you do it? How do you get there?

It started with a very quick visit to Boston, a place that I spent some of the happiest years of my life as a Jesuit. I hadn’t been back in almost a decade, and in the time in between the school and Jesuit community that I loved so much had moved out of Cambridge where we were onto the campus of Boston College, and transformed into a sort of “Jesuit village and academic center”.

But some of my favorite people were still living and working there. And as I sat and ate pizza and drank beer with them I kept having this sort of a-ha experience of being with them again after all these years and feeling totally and completely at home. And feeling so lucky to have those kinds of relationships in my life. Or actually, more correctly put, to be so welcomed by these people.

And that got me thinking about this thing that I see happen so often when I visit Australia. Someone shows up at the door, maybe expected, maybe unannounced. And they are invited in for a cup of tea.

That probably seems like nothing. But it’s pretty foreign to my experience in the States. Or even in the Jesuits. Most Jesuit communities I’ve lived in the last fifteen years, the guys you live with don’t even generally ever come to your door. It’s not always unwelcome, but for the most part it’s just not done.

And yet in Australia I’m always sort of drawn to the practice. Again, I think, it’s that sense of welcome, of being given room to breathe or a place for a moment to call home.

I think somewhere in there, that’s what friendship is. Or how I want to try to learn to be as a friend. Welcoming, making a space for.

I’m frankly mostly terrible at all of that. I’m busy, I’ve always got the whole day pre-planned out in my head and I’m very reluctant (aka unwilling) to adjust for surprises or the unexpected -- even though most of the time the unexpected proves to be some kind of wonderful. But I want to learn that kind of freedom.

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All of that led me to wonder about how friendship gets portrayed on television. Like, if you were going to choose a television character that you think would be a great friend, who would you choose?

For me, Pam Beasley from the U.S. version of The Office has got to be right up there. And it’s not because she’s funny or smart or talented, although she is all of those things. It’s because she’s fundamentally kind. She works with an office filled with crazy people, run by a total nutjob. And for the most part she just allows them all to be that way. We the audience get her little “Can you believe what I’m dealing with here” glances to camera. But whereas her future husband Jim is constantly doing that as a very funny way of undermining others’ comments, Pam is always on an emotional level kind of “with” those around her. She just can’t quite escape her own fundamental decency. (In fact I’d say it’s that fact that makes her so lovable and funny on the show; she’s stuck in a mental institution, but she’s just too nice to walk away.)

There’s other great TV friends. Like small town Indiana parks executive Leslie Knope, from Parks & Rec. Leslie is basically the Super Friend of friendship -- always encouraging, always positive. And every year she buys the kind of birthday presents that make grown men cry.

Or there’s Cisco Ramon from The Flash, who almost always has a funny line and also some cool nerd tech to bring to Team Flash. Cisco is sort of a classic image of the TV friend, the sidekick or helper. But his performance is so infectiously wonderful he transcends the role he’s been assigned. Actually these days he’s often the character you’d rather follow. Whereas Barry is often down in the dumps, Cisco almost always proceeds from a happy, hopeful place.

You know what’s really interesting, though? It’s pretty hard to find good friendships on television. Sure, there are lots of sitcoms and office dramas which are supposed about groups of friends. But I don’t know, usually they seem kind of superficial. No one really cares that much about anybody else, they’re all just happy punchlines for one another.

The West Wing is probably as good as the office-friend genre gets. Seriously, take the president away and basically The West Wing is a show about a bunch of ridiculously high-performing friends hanging out. I know most people say they love it for the political idealism, but I think what kept us coming back was not the politics, but the fact all these guys enjoyed each other so much.

As far as I can tell, the best friendships you’re going to see on television tend to be married couples and/or their platonic equivalent, partners. It’s Coach Taylor and Tami T.; Fox Mulder and Scully; Andy Sipowitz and Bobby Simone.

It’s also, I think, Elizabeth and Philip Jennings from The Americans. I know, two undercover KGB agents, working as a married couple for decades, murdering people, stealing secrets, and lying to everyone in their life does not sound like a recipe for friendship.

But the show turns out to be really about two strangers thrown together in an absolutely insane and dangerous existence, slowly coming to love one another, and facing the sacrifices that friendship entails. (Boy that last season....)

For me it’s also the raucous couple on Catastrophe. The things they say to each other are the kinds of things that I’m afraid to say in any relationship. There’s that no man’s land between us, we know it’s filled with mines, and so we stay away. And that’s where Catastrophe lives, and shows there really can be life there for all of us. Saying the real stuff doesn’t necessarily mean the end of everything. Or even that the end of everything in fact may not actually be the end of everything.

Friendship... I’ve got it on the brain.

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Last week I did a homage to my parents, who celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary on September 21st.

Then, one day later, I discovered that there is a comedian and Good Place writer Demi Adejyigbe has been celebrating the 21st of September for a whole other reason and in a spectacular way the last three years. Mom & Dad, consider this a little bonus gift. And the rest of you, too.

From the article at that link:

When we remember the 21st night of September, what we are remembering is that this is how humanity prevails, not through war and conquest and an apocalyptic fear of the Other, but by coming together to celebrate the spectacular ordinariness of life, and the way even a mundane calendar date can be filled with wonder and beauty and unforgettable communion.

How better to commemorate that than through a ridiculous, sublime reduction of Earth, Wind & Fire’s pop masterpiece to its most essential, most universal element? When we sing “never was a cloudy day,” what we’re really singing about is the eternal human spirit that refuses to accept defeat and stop loving when there are apocalyptic storm clouds rolling overhead. When we sing “ba-dee-ya,” what we’re really saying is “yes, we can.” And when we talk about what really makes America great, what we’re talking about is: September 21.

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Short one this week. It isn’t you, it’s me. Lots of traveling.

I had my meeting with CAPTAIN MYSTERIOUS POP CULTURE ICON. It was sort of a disaster, but that almost makes the whole story better (he tells himself, desperate for a win, please don't shatter my fragile dreams). We’ll see.

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Despite what you might think after the last few days/weeks/months, #MeToo is working, writes the great Anne Helen Petersen, who I’ve mentioned here before.

“Either you’re a monster, or you’re a saint, and there’s nothing in between. In real life, the vast majority of abuse takes place in the gray areas, often inflicted by people who can be loving, warm, and compassionate in other parts of their lives. A person can be nonabusive to dozens, hundreds, thousands of people, and still abuse someone.... one person’s experience of a man, or even 65 people’s experience of a man, does not obviate another’s. One daughter’s experience of a family does not erase her sister’s or brother’s. Those conversations are unsettling, but that’s what a conversation about abuse should be. It should rattle you. If the person who’s experienced the abuse has had to live with the consequences, we can live with the relatively small discomfiture of these conversations.”

Are you looking for a comic book to check out? I just read the first issue of this, Man-Eaters, which concerns what if teenage girls at puberty began to turn into wild cats and eat their friends and families. High concept to be sure, but really it’s about what it’s like to be treated as dangerous or strange by the world around you just because you've started your period.

Sarah Silverman questions a panini-obsessed Socrates about democracy. (Note: It is Sarah Silverman, so if language, adult concepts or paninis disturb you, perhaps travel on.)

Remember when late night was not obsessed with politics? Conan O’Brien does, and it is wonderful.

And finally, a great old song about friendship, from Paul McCartney.

Right here with you, as we stand at the top of the water slide and wonder how exactly we can plummet from such a height and not fracture our neck when we hit the pool. (Friction? Seriously?)

I have no more idea how it will all work out than you. But I sure am glad we're doing it together.

Ready? Here we go.