Friends shaking hands
At my godfather's funeral some years back, I searched for words to describe
his relationship with my father. I wanted to tell what I had experienced in
their interactions while growing up from toddler to adult. I captured in a few
words something that has affected my whole life.
On the surface of their relationship were laughter and fun family times. As
kids, we would sit listening to radio shows on a Friday evening in the bedroom
and then meld into the lounge, soaking up the adult conversation. There was
always a stolen sip of beer, and later they would move on to wine. Alcohol
animated their dialogue.
There were also always arguments. Strangely while I can remember so many
details about those evenings, I can’t remember one recurring topic from the
arguments. I can only remember how relentless they were. They would go on for
hours: politics, sports, work colleagues, gossip. Whatever the topic, my
father and godfather would line up in opposite corners like boxers in a ring.
There was no starting or ending bell, just an ongoing argument.
Sometimes they would hold tightly to their position all night. Sometimes they
would change sides, arguing the point that the other had started with. I
remember wondering how they could be friends when they spent so much time
disagreeing.
It was only at my father's recent funeral, where I repeated the words from
years before, that I started to understand what they meant. My father started
working at Mobil Oil in the 1950s. My godfather was his first boss. They
became lifelong friends, and that relationship had thousands of ramifications
on their spouses, children and larger circles of friends. Like a stone landing
in a still lake, the friendship in the middle rippled out in ever larger
circles over decades, continents, eras, and generations.
This made me reflect on the thousands of people I have met in business and
life. I have had seemingly random encounters that have led to significant
relationships. One relationship started with an argument over who would sleep
on the only bed in my Maastricht student digs in 1991. Another began with
threatening to sue over a business disagreement. Some school friends left a
mark through their generosity, humour or shared adventures. I have been a
client of others, and some have been clients of mine. Colleagues with deeply
shared experiences and ‘met once at a conference’ all make up the tapestry of
my relationships.
Looking at it now, there is no formula. There is, however, a constant. The
constant with each meaningful relationship in my life is time. Meaning doesn’t
happen quickly. Like anything of quality, it takes time. Time to percolate.
Time to accumulate experiences. Time to go down dead ends and turn back
together. Or perhaps realise together is not a thing, and in a Darwinian act
of selection, a relationship must be let go, allowing for more meaningful
connections with the remaining ones."
Like my father and godfather, and being a man, some of my most meaningful
relationships are with men. And we men, in my culture, do not come equipped
with the language to describe our relationships particularly elegantly. The L
word does not come up in polite conversation over beers, business
opportunities and sports.
And this is why the song recorded by Louis Armstrong in the year I was born is
such a hopeful reminder of the meaningful relationships we are sometimes
privileged to have in business. Not only does the line
"Friends shaking hands saying how do you do, they're really saying, I love
you”
describe the unspoken love between people with consequential relationships,
but it also speaks of the hope that every handshake could start something
life-changing. The arguments I grew up with were about something other than
the arguments. This is why I don’t remember the topics. I do remember the
feeling. The arguments were them shaking hands. Shaking hands was the only way
to express what they felt about each other.