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Friendship is a big statement. Lots of people are lovers but are not friends. Lots of people are relatives and are not friends. Lots of people who work together are not friends. You can appreciate or admire someone, but that does not mean that you make him or her a friend.

When I had my near-death illness last year and the following long recuperation, I had a lot of time to think about what makes someone a friend. If they are scared of you when you need help, sorry, that is not friendship. If their attitude is “for better or worse,” if they stick to you through troubles and difficulties, it is the time when you can tell it is true friendship. I do have some friends, but not as many as I thought. And there was a time, in the late 80s when my friend, Ken, really needed me but I did not come through for him. I remember hanging out in my happy suburban house in Menlo Park, and not coming to help him through the loss of his wife. Luckily, I got to apologize for that but Ken said he did not mind.

I do not have a tidy answer about Ken and me and friendship. Sometimes we were friends, and other times, clearly, not. But I guess there is something remarkable in two people overcoming the barriers to friendship to find some real communication at some point.

What happened to the writer last year?

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