Same Time Next Year

Relaxing after a hard day’s work on the mountain

The only way to have a friend is to be one - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I just got back from the fifth annual work alumni ski trip, which saw participation increase by 20% this year, after increasing 25% the prior year. We now have a tight-knit group of six skiers and riders, ranging from beginner to expert. When the trip started towards the tail end of Covid, we were all employed at Delphix, but over time, life happened, and now there are only two Delphixers left. (The independent company itself is gone, having been folded into a larger company a few years ago, but its dedicated employees and products are still chugging along.)

You know what else is chugging along? Our friendships. Maintaining friendships with colleagues after employment, just like maintaining any friendship after the convenience of proximity is gone, is not so easy. This annual ski trip has been a fantastic way for the six of us to stay connected.

This year, a person joined our trip who had never skied before. To maintain everyone’s privacy, I will share a story from our trip with “masked” names. I must not have been paying close attention when I’d talked to Joe about joining us this year; I didn’t realize that he had never skied. After I found out, I strongly suggested that he take a lesson. He did that on our first day, and it went exceedingly well, and so he signed up for another lesson, and that one also went well. So for our last day, we decided he’d learned enough, and I offered to ski with him that morning.

We took several successful runs on the bunny hill, with the very slow rolling chairlift that serviced it. I’ve gotten so used to high-speed chairs that riding one of the oldtimers was surprisingly relaxing. They have a key advantage over the speedy, modern lifts - you get more time to talk. After a few successful runs, I felt it was time to move Joe to a slightly longer, but still beginner-rated run.

This is when I found out I am a poor ski instructor. While I know what I do, I don’t really know how to communicate this to a beginner in a helpful way. Joe and I started skiing down this larger run, and I immediately saw that he was struggling to control his speed. He would tentatively make one turn and then start accelerating uncontrollably fast, and fail to make his next turn. At one point, he used another skier as a backstop.

In response, as he was struggling, I began yelling at him with increasing volume and urgency, “TURN!!! TURN!!! TURN!!” Of course, his problem was that he didn’t really know how to turn, so shouting at him proved an ineffective means of instruction.

Just when things were looking the most bleak, another member of our party skied up out of nowhere and offered practical advice on HOW to turn, telling Joe to slide his downhill leg out at the start to put all of his weight on this ski. Magically, Joe immediately made controlled turns, regaining his confidence in the process. His mission having been accomplished, the skiing godfairy abruptly departed, not to be seen again until the end of the day.

Our trip was a huge success. We start with a visit to the local grocery store and liquor store. We cook all of our meals together; everyone pitches in; there are no slackers and no spendies. We play rousing games of “Oh Hell” in the evenings, a game introduced to the group by one of our more intelligent and cardwise members. And we share stories and update each other on what is going on in our lives.

It takes commitment to make these trips happen. Everyone has reasons why they shouldn’t go. The reason we keep showing up isn’t the skiing; it is maintaining the personal connections after the convenience of working together is long gone. I’m hoping we keep doing this one for a long time.

Over the course of my career, I made many work friends, but when I switched companies, those friendships tended to fade away, which has always bothered me. I’m the kind of person who, when I make a human connection with another person, wants to stay connected. I have been resigned to the fact that we all only have so much time and energy to devote to our friends, and we all have to prioritize.

It isn’t just work friends with whom I have lost contact. This has happened with my friends from grade school, high school, college, post-college, and friends met while raising our kids. I have people I consider to be lifelong friends that I actually haven’t spoken to or seen in over a decade. I still think about them when triggered by a song or other memory, but I rarely follow through with an attempt to connect.

Do you keep track of who calls whom in your relationships? I used to do that. I’d say to myself, “Gee, I haven’t heard from so-and-so for a long time. I wonder what they are up to.” But then I’d say to myself, “Well, I called them the last couple of times, and they haven’t called back”, and that would be that.

I have one friend from college, who for years was always the instigator of phone calls. He never gave up! He has been the glue that has kept a number of his classmates in touch over the decades. Recently, I decided he had the right approach, and I’ve stopped caring that with many friends, I’m the one who does the reaching out.

Watching Joe on that slope stuck with me. He had no idea what he was doing, no guarantee he wouldn’t embarrass himself, and he showed up anyway. He took a risk. There’s something to that. I’ve been thinking about people I’ve lost touch with for years, the people I think about but never quite get around to calling. So I’ve made a list. People from college, old colleagues, friends from the years when our kids were small. I’m going to try to reach one of them a week and see what happens. That feels like enough of a start.