Brent VanEnk was the first person I ever called my best friend. Back in those days, neighbors were friends by default, and when you grow up on a farm, you take what you can get. But I think even if we had been raised on a cul-de-sac, with an army of other kids to play with, Brent and I still would’ve become close. We both loved building forts in the woods, digging giant holes, drawing monsters, and writing scary stories.
With numerous mutual interests, we fed off each other’s imaginative minds, collaborating on projects wherever we went. We invented a card game, drawing creatures on the back of our parents’ business cards with ATTACK and DEFENSE points. We took turns writing chapters to adventure novels, where we’d go back in time and fend off mastodons or Vikings.
Brent was a natural instigator, and I was an amiable follower, but we occasionally got into spats. I will cite the infamous “Lego Eagle Wing” debacle of 1997. We spent a lot of afternoons digging through the Lego bin, seeing who could come up with the coolest creation, but the winner was usually the person who managed to find both of the blue jet wings with eagles on the sides. We each found one wing, and despite Brent’s best arguments, I was not about to surrender mine over. We both passive-aggressively built flying machines that would’ve looked cooler with both wings, came to a stalemate, and I went home early.
What constitutes good friendship? The factors are numerous. When we were younger, it was someone with whom you could share that juvenile, carefree notion of “Play,” as Gabe Gunnink so beautifully described. A little older, and it was about who was good at what. Who can run the fastest? Who can make the most layups? Who can read the most books? Who can put the most Fire Sauce packets on their Taco Bell hot lunch meals? II gained a few grade-school followers for that last feat.)
As we grew into adults, priorities changed. Things that never mattered before, like religious beliefs and political stances, came into play, and then it was nice to be friends with people who felt the same way about such things. You could commiserate on events that troubled you, shake your heads at ideas you felt were asinine, and celebrate together the things you considered moral victories.
I’m a sucker for nostalgia. I can’t help but look back fondly and frequently to the days when our biggest disagreements were over who could use the Lego Eagle wings, because things certainly have changed.
In the age of social media, it can be…amusing—if nothing else—to see what your old pals are up to. So-and-so came out and is an advocate for gay rights. What’s-her-name got really into guns. That one guy turns every conversation into a social justice dilemma. And what’s-his-face works at Culver’s and thinks the earth is flat. What a time to be alive!
On election night in 2016, President-elect Donald Trump called for Americans to “bind the wounds of division… it is time to get together as one united people.” It sounded well intentioned, but the sentiment has largely missed the mark. A lot of people will tell you that America is more divided than ever. Rather than pausing and listening to the other side, heels are digging in and mouths are shouting louder. Guards are up, egos are fragile, and feelings are as combustible as flash paper. People will boycott at the drop of a hat or the bend of a knee. “Snowflake” doesn’t mean snow, and it’s not a compliment. Is this the most divisive time in history? Probably not, but in an age where everything is scrutinized as newsworthy, it sure seems like it. If anyone was counting on the current administration to help us find common ground, they were sorely misled.
However, I think it’s an important sentiment, and we ought to at least take initiative and try. I think common ground and respect are extremely important, even if you have to have to be the first to extend the olive branch.
I understand those who feel that respect must be earned in order to be given, but that stance won’t end any Cold Wars. It also sounds a little hypocritical. Somebody has to make the first move. Listen, don’t talk. Keep an open mind. If you think the “other side” is the problem, call your own bluff and try it first.
Over the last few years, I’ve started hanging out with a new group of friends, and it’s a special, eclectic crew indeed. We’re an odd assortment of individuals, cobbled together through vague connections and a perpetual “open door” policy towards inviting others. We kayak and camp together, we have bonfires, we go hunting, we get drinks. We help each other fix vehicles, apply for jobs, decipher text messages from significant others, analyze the ups and downs of life. Our beliefs certainly span the political spectrum, but we also have our differences about religion, conservation, racism, gender roles, sexuality, finance, romance, and bromance. All the hot-button issues.
Now I know that could describe a lot of different friendships. In fact, it’s probably uncommon not to have serious discussions with your good friends. But I’ve always found that diversity of opinions special, and I’ve always viewed that as an asset to our dynamic.
Any good friendship will nurture good conversation naturally, but if you limit your social circles to only those who share your beliefs, you’re really missing out. You’re missing opportunities to learn from others, and others are missing out on opportunities to learn from you. If you never leave the farm and complain exclusively to red voters about the “liberal media,” you’re beating a dead horse. If you’re always holed up in the brewery under the shade of the rainbow flag, lamenting our president’s choices, you’re preaching to the choir. It’s not that these conversations aren’t constructive, it’s just that a more affect-able audience might be out there.
But it’s hard not to get heated. Everybody has opinions, and they get the best of us sometimes. With all the various elements that comprise a friendship, one simple bonding method has stood the test of age: activities. Find people who like to do what you like to do. Find a knitting circle, running club, fishing buddy, whatever. That annoying coworker you always avoid might just have the best book recommendations you’ve never heard of. Your neighbor who’s way too vocal on Facebook might have a knack for cooking or carpentry. That stuck-up lady from church might be a huge hit at parties. That guy from the post calvin whose posts you don’t really care for might be an expert on really obscure topics, like aquatic cryptozoology. You’ve been dying to learn more about Bessie the Lake Erie Monster, haven’t you? I’m your guy.
At the end of the day, you shouldn’t let politics get in the way of a good friendship. Extend the olive branch.
Nick Meekhof (’15) graduated with a major in writing and a minor in geography. A farmer for the first twenty-three years of his life, Nick currently works for the Michigan Department of Agriculture. When he’s not traversing the state conducting orchard inspections, he can be found exploring the rivers, forests, and small towns all throughout the Great Lakes State. His current goals include kayaking one hundred Michigan rivers, swimming in Lake Michigan during every month of the year, and visiting as many Michigan breweries as possible.
