What is it then between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,

— Walt Whitman, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”

My wife and I married relatively late. The time has flown by. Our children are grown up. We have entered Erikson’s final stage.

I have learned a lot from experience: good and bad, including mistakes and disappointments. Yet it is notable how little I have actually changed from my early years: childhood, schooldays. Adolescence and young adulthood.

Same for my wife, from what I know about her upbringing, early friends, early life experiences.

Just a few weeks ago I heard from a friend from my elementary school days who — precisely — I last spoke with 62 years and three months ago. Circumstances — a move my family made, attending different high schools — had separated us.

He hasn’t changed; neither have I. We picked up where we left off after all those years.

About my wife. Our backgrounds were in many respects different. We met by chance. It was a totally random occurrence.

And …

She “got” me immediately. I realize, in retrospect, that it seemed like we already knew one another.

She “understood” me: my personality and inner qualities.

Isn’t that remarkable?

Isn’t life? Friendships, Love. Humanity.

And the people whom one meets (as was the case with me), often with nothing particular in common. And feel; They didn’t have to prove themselves to me. We understood and appreciated one another. Spirit, intuitions, humanity. I am speaking about the ones who became friends and acquaintances whom I remember fondly though we never became close.

* * *

Dedicated to you: Frank, Brad, Arthur, Ira, Tom, Kathy, Larry, Sam, Jim, Bill, Patrice, Iseko.

And a host of others.

– posted by Roger W. Smith

  February 2026