I am blessed with many friends, and with many friendly acquaintances. Having you in my life doesn’t make me miss these any less, but their being stationed elsewhere does make me appreciate you more.
If you have read my post “20 Questions for Blair” and the comments that followed, you have stumbled across a couple of references to and even a couple of comments from two guys that are affectionately known as Spanky and Pooch.
Now, you might hazard a guess that Spanky and Pooch are not the names their mothers gave them. These are the names that they have earned and embraced as Air Force fighter pilots. These are the names that they and those that love them choose to use. They not only will answer to these names, they prefer them.
From the Fall of ’04 until the early summer of ’05, I was blessed with the chance to get to know these two men. I am still not sure why their friendship means so much to me. Five months after they were both stationed elsewhere, I think I am starting to figure it out.
With these two men, I experienced honesty. We met weekly for breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, and conversations over breakfast were always lively and never boring. There was never any pretense or guile. At no point did we ever feel a need to impress one another with who we weren’t. The circumstances that drew us together were such that there was no room for deception. We met in our brokenness in order to encourage one another. Some weeks, the need for encouragement was shared by all… other weeks we ended up focusing on one of the three of us more than the other two, but we took turns being the needy one. On more than one occasion did three men embrace in the parking lot or gift store as we wept and prayed. In case you don’t know, that doesn’t come easy for guys.
That honesty was accompanied by acceptance. Here I was, a long-haired hippy wanna-be, befriending two fighter pilots. I must admit that the stereotype of the Southern manly-man has always somewhat intimidated me. You know the type… the ones who played several sports in high school and have the mentality that if you can’t shoot it, sleep with it, or drive it in the mud then it isn’t worthy of your time? They were the ones who were captains of the kickball teams when I was growing up, and let’s just say that I wasn’t one of the first ones picked. Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t picked last… the cross-eyed girl and the kid who weighed 230 when we were in second grade always managed to be last, but I was closer to being last than I was to being first.
And yet, these two guys were becoming two of my closest friends. Can you think of a manlier job than flying a freaking JET?!?!!? Not only were they fighter pilots, they had both been instructor pilots. They were not only bad-asses, but they taught Air Force wanna-be’s how to be bad-asses! And they were befriending me… a long-haired teacher who is quick to correct his students that make the mistake of calling him Coach… “No… Call me Mr. Andress or Mr. A… NOT coach… I teach for a living.” The reason for this acceptance is because we each were longing for true masculinity, and not a cheap imitation. (What’s the difference? Read on gentle reader, read on.)
There was not only acceptance for who we were as individuals, there was acceptance for where we were and where we had been. Between the three of us, some pretty heinous things were shared. All three of us shared not only our strengths, but our weaknesses… not only our successes, but our horrible failures. At no point did I feel judged by them, and I am pretty confident that they felt the same. Within this circle of friendship, we found a safe place. The incredible thing is, we loved each other enough to accept the weaknesses, but we also loved one another to encourage and edify those weaknesses. In being this kind of friend for one another, we encouraged one another towards the One we each professed to follow… we encouraged one another to follow after God in the ways of Christ. By encouraging one another to live as Christ lived, we were encouraging one another towards true masculinity.
With Pooch and Spanky, there was also a great sense of urgency. Though we knew that both of them were applying for another year at Maxwell, we were only confident of one year. From the beginning, we knew that their time here was limited. Some people would immediately withdraw instead of investing time in people that were destined to be elsewhere in a few short months. I am thankful that this wasn’t the case. For the three of us, the shortness of time created a sense of urgency, a need to cram as much life as we could into the days that we shared.
So, at the beginning of the summer, Spanky and Pooch got their orders. Spanky went to Korea for two years, and Pooch went to the Pentagon. I talked to Pooch tonight, and because of the wonders of the 21st century, I can even talk to Spanky without making an international phone call. I talk to them often, but not often enough.
I have learned a lot from those two, and I continue to. I have learned a lot about myelf, and I have learned a great deal about friendship. I truly try to practice each thing I mentioned above in my other friendships. After all, once you have taken off the mask, it is hard to put back on. The future is not certain, so we should all embrace today with a sense of urgency.
I have other friends, and I am thankful for them all. Ian and I talked tonight, and Sam and I had breakfast on Friday.
… but Wednesday morning, I will most likely not get up at 5:15. I won’t go to Cracker Barrel, and I won’t hear my favorite waitress say, “Thank you…” in a gravelly voice. I could go by myself, I suppose. I could go and remember.
I miss those two tonight. I wish that tomorrow morning was Wednesday and that Pooch and Spanky were going to be at Cracker Barrel waiting on Flig. Who am I kidding? Spanky was always late… it would be Pooch and Flig waiting on Spanky… not to mention Spanky’s girlfriend, the oh-so friendly cashier… but that is a story for another time.