Who – or rather, what – makes a true friend?

The way things have been going lately, it has been hard not to start feeling sorry (or scared) for my ever-aging self.

I’ve lost a few friends and family members this past year or so; some from old age; some from COVID-19 and related health issues; and a few from unforeseen situations beyond their control.

By Michael Powell michael.cherryvilleeagle@gmail.com

didn’t mean to, and some by people I didn’t know, but whose stupidity and ignorance caused me harm anyway. As I said, all were accidents; never on purpose (or so I hoped), thank God!

Here in Cherryville, we’ve lost some good –no, some GREAT – people too. I could try and name them here but I fear I would miss one or two and would never forgive myself if I did. Also, all of them deserve better epitaphs and words written about them than some dumb word hack like me could ever pen. As for health issues? A while back I managed to fracture a couple of ribs, and let me tell you, that’s NO picnic! I’ve broken a lot of my own bones in my lifetime and had more than few broken for me; some by people I knew who to all the neighborhood in-laws (and outlaws) as “Bubbie”. He was like the brother I never had (I’m an only child). He had Muscular Dystrophy and was unable to walk after the age of seven. However, that didn’t stop him (or me) from getting into trouble, and I mean with a capital “T”! I guess I was his enabler since he couldn’t walk or run anywhere. But, with me pushing him around in his small, beat-up wheelchair, well, there was no place we couldn’t go where our – that is, MY – feet could take us.

I was thinking back recently about some of my old friends, many of whom, as I said, have gone on to their great heavenly (or so I hope and pray!) reward. As I thought about them, a smile would appear on my face, causing my dear wife to ask me what I was thinking about. Occasionally, there would be a smile and a tear or two, and that’s when she really got interested in my thoughts. While I had many buddies and such when I was at the ripe old age of 10 to 12, my one true friend was my cousin Robert, a.k.a.

We had us a mess of friends and cohorts in crime all about our same age and from our old neighborhood, and believe me, we made the best of every golden summer the good Lord gave us.

A couple of those kids we lost along the way; some to sickness; some to accidents; a couple to just plain stupid bad luck on their part. Some fell by the wayside and went to jail; never coming back from that life pathway they chose.

As we all got older, age dealt many us bad blows,