I read a most enlightening letter written by an American schoolgirl Samantha Smith to the attention of Russian President Yuri Andropov in 1982; a period of the cold war between the two countries. Samantha’s letter follows:
Dear 
Mr. Andropov, My name is Samantha Smith. I am ten years old. Congratulations on your new job. I have been worrying about Russia and the United States getting into a nuclear war. Are you going to vote to have a war or not? If you aren’t, please tell me how you are going to help to not have a war. This question you do not have to answer, but I would like to know why you want to conquer the world or at least our country. God made the world for us to live together in peace and not to fight. Sincerely, Samantha Smith
She received a personal reply with a personal invitation to visit the Soviet Union, which she accepted. Smith attracted extensive media attention in both countries as a “Goodwill Ambassador.” In time, she promoted peace around the word. At 15, she was flying home in a small aircraft when it crashed — with no survivors.
That correspondence made me wonder whatever happened to old friends from school and workplaces, the people I shared my biggest concerns with. I feel I’ve lost part of my identity as these were the friends “who knew me when.”
But serendipity played a part in rekindling that. A friend of mine, Glenn, from 50 years ago, got in touch a few days before the ‘murder mystery’ in Westmeath. Of course, I invited him to see the show. I recalled from high school days how he used to tease and tell others that, “Bob just has to stick his head out the bedroom window and he’s on Main Street.”
When I landed my first full-time job in Toronto, Glenn was already working there. We started hanging out. Occasionally I had a date with him, his steady girlfriend and one of her student nurse friends. The friend was as pretty as an angel but as sacred as a shrine. One afternoon before our dates we hit the Zanzibar on Yonge Street. It happened to be Grey Cup weekend in the Big Smoke and inside the buzz around tomorrow’s big game made the undisciplined bar seem like a circus. Caught up in the spirit of the excitement we underestimated our capacity for drinks. We made it to the nursing residence late but tolerable late. Less than 20 minutes later I became deathly ill from the booze, right in the parking lot and onto the side of my car. Any prospect of breaking down ‘the angel’s defensive wall’ was squashed. Now it was 50 years in the future: after the show Glenn gave his head a shake and said, “Grylls, you haven’t changed a damn bit.”
An important theory that gives special insight into the meaning of old friendships and why our oldest friends are our “comfort food.” The theory is the “socioemotional selectivity theory” (SST). Developed by Stanford University, it states people seek two functions out of their relationships: informational and affective. The information function refers to the knowledge we get from other people. Most likely, old friends serve the “emotion” function of making you feel good. If you knew the world was going to end in five minutes, you’d want to be with the people who matter most to you.
A friend from the past that I would like to have known — wasn’t. I was in a pharmacy when she wiggled up to me suggestively and said, “Larry, where have you been? I miss the good times we had.” Tempted to play the trump role just to see what was in the cards, I somehow couldn’t. That temptation is one I may not get another chance at!
Scarcer is when you are mistaken for someone else for no apparent reason. One time my young nephew, when he saw a clip of Paul Harrison on TV, would shout, “There’s uncle Bobby.” The others in the room just groaned! In a plaza parking lot one evening in Toronto a kid asked “Are you Borge Salming of the Leaf’s?” I said yes! Knowing he wanted an autograph, I gave him one. Then in a Home Depot Store a lady eyed me and screamed, “You’re Christopher Walken, come and give me a hug.” She wasn’t my type so I quickly hustled out of sight.
The examples of mistaken identity were surreal. The friend from the past stirred concealed memories that now mean so much once again.
