A friendship written in words

In 2009 JF wrote a piece titled “The Passage of Time, Life Reflected in a Cereal Bowl.” He had me at hello.

If there were such a thing as Cancer Airlines my friend JF and I would qualify as frequent flyers. The two of us managed to accrue a significant number of miles over the years. Sadly, JF cashed in his miles last month. Prostate cancer finally grounded him for good.

As I reflect on our friendship it occurs to me that JF and I couldn’t have been more different. JF was a devout Catholic. I am a High Holiday Jew. He was a staunch Republican. I am a bleeding heart liberal. JF was athletic and excelled at shooting hoops. I do not have an athletic bone in my body and excel at Netflix and Hulu.

So how do two people from different political and religious backgrounds establish a friendship?

The lyrics from “Fiddler on the Roof” come to mind: “Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.” Our matchmaker turned out to be our hometown newspaper, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

In 2009 JF wrote a piece titled “The Passage of Time, Life Reflected in a Cereal Bowl.” He had me at hello. I was charmed, and I emailed him to let him know he had a fan. Over the years it became our tradition to express our appreciation to one another whenever one of us was lucky enough to have an essay appear in print.

JF and I never met in person. Not once. We never sat across a restaurant table or shared a cup of coffee. Everything I know about JF came through his words, and everything he knew about me came through mine. And yet I felt that I knew him. Perhaps there was something liberating about a friendship conducted through email. We had no small talk or awkward introductions. We simply checked in on one another when the time felt right.

We didn’t become friends because we agreed on the issues of the day. Quite the opposite. We looked at the same world through entirely different lenses. But neither of us was interested in converting the other. I wasn’t about to become a Republican and he wasn’t about to start voting like me. We were simply two curious people who cared about each other’s welfare. That was enough. That was more than enough.

An appreciation for our hometown newspaper wasn’t the only thing we had in common. When cancer came knocking at both of our doors, what choice did we have other than to open the door and cope as best we could with our unwanted guest?

When I hit some turbulence this past year, JF let me know that he was praying for me every day. He also sent my name to his prayer circle posse and I was added to its list. I returned the favor by asking my son, a rabbi, to say a Mi Shebeirach, the Jewish prayer for healing for JF.

Perhaps that was one of the more special parts of our friendship. We were a Catholic and a Jew, a Republican and a Democrat, being present for one another through life’s trials and tribulations. Cancer Airlines had put us on the same flight, and somehow the journey had brought us closer.

Where to find good lox in Pittsburgh, solid writing and cancer updates became major themes in our email exchanges. Then last month I knew there was trouble on the horizon when he wrote his hoop days were over. His cancer had spread, and he was experiencing weakness and weight loss. Hospice had been called in.

Still he wrote that he would continue to pray for me every day.

He ended the email by letting me know he was ready to go. “I’ve had a good run,” he wrote. And then added, “An interesting situation for me … like having a confirmed seat on an airplane but not knowing when the plane is scheduled to take off.”

That was JF: departing with a meaningful metaphor, faith and grace.

Godspeed, JF.

And may your flight be a smooth one. PJC

Debby Tepper Glick is a mother, grandmother and writer living in Mt. Lebanon, and can be reached at watchestwo@gmail.com.