I’d been vaguely kicking around friends-centric story ideas for a few days when, on Monday of last week, none other than David Schwimmer popped up on my TV screen. He was a guest on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert. Schwimmer, as many people know, was one of the stars of Friends, an immensely popular American sitcom that ran from 1994 to 2004 and whose episodes have been rebroadcast on traditional television channels, and have been available on various streaming services, for years.

Even though I’m almost completely ignorant about Friends, having seen a grand total of maybe six minutes of the show, I took Schwimmer’s appearance to be a forceful cue from the WordPress gods. Who wouldn’t have?  I was not about to give those deities, famed for being short on patience, any opportunities to wreak vengeance upon me. Hence, the following day I lowered my bony ass onto the chair beside my computer and began to peck away in earnest. What follows, then, is all about friends.

Man, if there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s this:  You can’t have too many friends, good ones especially. We’re social creatures, after all. Just about everyone, anyway. We want to feel loved and appreciated. And we need to laugh and shoot the shit and, when necessary, to be comforted and helped. The more close friends we have, the more regularly and satisfactorily those requirements will be met, and the more at ease and comfortable in the world we will be. Of course, having but one good friend absolutely will suffice. The game of life, though, becomes merrier and richer when multiple individuals who meet the good friend description are within our orbits.

I’m fortunate to be able to say I have a pretty nice number of good friends. I can depend on them and they can depend on me. I’m talking about my wife and some other relatives, and a bunch of pals to whom I’m not related but with whom I share mutual love and similar wavelengths. I have nothing whatsoever to complain about.

Still, I worry a bit about my situation. That’s because it has been many, many a moon since I formed any friendships that have gone beyond the casual stage. Much to my amazement, I made several good friends while in my early 60s. Since then, however, not a one. I’m now well past the halfway point of my 70s, and wouldn’t at all mind having at least a couple more people to hang out with, folks whose vibes and interests mesh with mine. But how the hell might I meet them? By striking up conversations with strangers? By enrolling in adult ed classes whose subjects wow me? I suppose so. I sure can’t think of a lot of other ways. The odds, though, are that my circle of friends will not expand. Seeing that we reside in an ever-expanding universe, however, everyone’s circle of friends automatically would follow suit if it were up to me.

Many songs have been written about friends and friendships. I’d like to conclude this contemplation with two of them. You’ve Got A Friend, composed by Carole King, would be an obvious choice. But I’m going to go with others I prefer to the King opus.

In 1968, a very low point in their career, The Beach Boys released Friends, an album as beautiful and calming as a forest pond. It barely made a dent in the record industry’s sales charts. One of the relative few who bought it back then, I quickly fell under its spell. From it, naturally, I’ve chosen to present the title song, a sweet thing in waltz time written by four members of the band (Brian Wilson; Carl Wilson; Dennis Wilson; Al Jardine).

We’re Going To Be Friends (written by Jack White) is my second pick. The tune appears on White Blood Cells, an album thrust into the world in 2001 by The White Stripes, a now-disbanded duo composed of Jack and his then-wife Meg White. Best known as thrashing rockers, The White Stripes had a gentle side too, as We’re Going To Be Friends demonstrates.

For your listening pleasure, here are those two celebrations of human connectivity: