"A Season, a Reason, or a Lifetime": What Friendship Really Requires

A reflection on friendship during a transition.

Friendships are often forged in shared context, either because you live in the same place, have mutual interests, or are at similar stages in life (e.g., raising kids). What happens when the context changes? In this essay, I reflect on the nature of friendship through life’s transitions: from my early adult nomadic life to 13 years in Oakland, to a new beginning in Sun Valley. I draw on classical wisdom, modern science, and my personal experience to explore the kinds of friendships that endure and what it takes to nurture them.

Transitions are hard on friendships

Until my early forties, I lived a nomadic life. I left home for the Naval Academy, served in the military, and then completed tours of duty at both large and small companies, spanning from coast to coast and including a short stint in the UK. There was actually an eleven-year stretch where I had 13 addresses. Moving was a constant. I never had a sense of digging in.

Then came Oakland. Dana and I arrived with our two boys (age 5 and 7) in 2012, thinking we would have a “California Adventure” for 3-5 years. We found a great neighborhood with good schools and a nice house. Thirteen years later, I realized that this was the longest I had ever lived in one place. . .ever. One house. One community. 13 years. As they say about raising kids, “the days were long, the years were short”

In Oakland, my friendships took root through the routines of parenting. Our kids’ lives became the catalyst for our social lives: weekend sports, scouting events, and auction parties—-lots of auction parties. My boys’ friends’ fathers became my friends, not by some grand design, but due to proximity. But proximity alone wasn’t the glue—it was what we did together that made the relationships real. As I often tell my boys, men build friendships through shared experiences (activities). With my friends at least, it is rare for us to sit across from each other and talk about our deepest fears (note: I get this may be a problem). Instead, we hike, we ride, we coach Little League, we build campfires. Sharing happens during an activity.

C510 and the Value of Effort

There was also a bike group (C510) I rode with. This group included a cast of characters, some hardcore and others barely hanging on to the back of the peloton with me. We met in the early hours when it was usually dark and damp to get the miles in. And every weekend, there was a group ride somewhere around the Bay. We didn’t talk about life much, but we got to know each other one hill at a time. I have always found there to be something uniquely honest about friendships built on physical effort. You can’t fake a climb. A sprint humbles us all. And, at the end of the day, you show up, or you don’t. That is a true test of character, commitment and friendship.

Friendship and the Power of Context

Now that we have moved to Sun Valley, I don’t have the advantage of proximity. I can’t host friends on our deck for a Friday cocktail hour. I won’t have my default Sunday rides. As I make this transition, I wonder: which of these relationships were built on shared logistics, and which were built to last?

I have faced this question before when I moved from city to city. When I was younger, I thought friendships just happened. A shared context and close proximity enable you to build connections. I found this to be true in High School, College, Flight School, when I was stationed with a squadron, and then at business school. Each context provided a catalyst to connect. The disappointment for me was that once the context changed, many of the friendships faded. Proximity is a powerful force, and without it, even strong bonds can fade.

At the same time, some of these friendships from each experience have persisted. Over the past decade, I have made a conscious effort to invest more deliberately in a few cohorts: a handful of high school friends, a few Naval Academy classmates, a Seattle crew from my early professional years, and, more recently, a group from business school. Each group has its own unique rhythm and set of rules. Some trade sarcasm as currency, which drives my wife nuts. Some default to deep dives and strategic reflection. Some are men only; some include both men and women. These groups don’t survive on nostalgia alone. They survive on intention. It requires reaching out, planning trips, & showing up. The shared histories were the starting point. The ongoing investment is what makes them vibrant.

What Will Carry Forward?

As I reflect on our 13 years in Oakland, I wonder: Will a new cohort of friends emerge? Or will it be a couple of “couple” friendships, families with whom we will stay close because of our shared history and values? As anyone will tell you, closing a chapter of life is harder than it sounds. There’s no ceremony, no final scene. There is just a slow fade-out of texts, group dinners, and spontaneous Saturday plans. And there is a choice to be made about which friendships will play forward.

There is also a choice to be made in finding new friends. Do I really want to start over? Since we don’t have our kids’ lives to provide the catalyst, will I find new friends that I seek out not by default, but by design? And will they endure not just because we ride together or share a neighborhood, but because we challenge and enrich who we are becoming as human beings?

What Makes a Life Truly Satisfying

“If you strip away the noise—accomplishments, money, titles—what makes a life truly satisfying?”

That was the animating question behind the Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longest-running longitudinal study on human happiness. For over 85 years, researchers have tracked the lives of hundreds of men and, later, their families, measuring everything from income to cholesterol levels to career success. What they found was both unsurprising and quietly revolutionary: The quality of your relationships is the clearest predictor of your happiness and health, more than fame, more than wealth, more than genetics. In his TED Talk, Dr. Robert Waldinger puts it simply: “Good relationships keep us happier and healthier. Period.”

Stress, Fitness, and Friendship

In his TED Talk, Dr. Waldinger reminds us that meaningful connections do more than fill our social calendar; they serve as stress regulators, helping our bodies reset after life’s inevitable challenges. I recall experiencing this throughout my life, whether riding bikes, skiing, or engaging in other activities with friends. It wasn’t just about building physical fitness, it was what Dr Waldinger described as building “social fitness.” This has become even more true for me as I have tried to be more intentional with specific friend groups.

Friendship, like physical fitness, requires maintenance. You can’t binge your way to strength, and you can’t neglect relationships and expect them to thrive. Social fitness is no different. It requires consistent investment, even when life feels overfull. We all have limits to the time and energy we can give. That’s part of growing older: making decisions about where and with whom to invest. This calculus changes now that both of our boys are going to college. I certainly look forward to the time I get to spend with Dana, and the time I will have to myself to read, to write, to do whatever. And I am looking forward to meeting new people—I think.

Three Kinds of Friendship

Of course, not every friendship deserves the same investment. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that part of maturing—emotionally and relationally—is learning to discern where that effort should go. Some friendships offer energy, perspective, and support; others simply exist out of habit or history. And this is where I’ve found the Greeks surprisingly helpful. It turns out that long before Harvard started tracking social fitness, the Greek philosophers were already mapping out the different kinds of relationships and helping to clarify which ones are built to last.

To that point, I have been working through Xenophon’s Memorabilia as part of a seminar. In this text, Xenophon records Socrates’ teachings on various topics. There is an entire section on friendship—what makes a good friend, how to be a good friend, what friendship means in life. Netting it out, a good friend is someone who is “useful,” not in terms of transactional ‘utility,’ but, instead, in the sense of someone who actively contributes to our character and clarity, and for whom we do the same. Aristotle built out the concept of friendship in his Nicomachean Ethics, defining three kinds of friendships:

• Those based on Utility. They are formed out of need and are often temporary.

• Those based on Pleasure. They are based on enjoyment or shared interest.

• Those based on Virtue. These are rare and resilient. They are formed between people committed to each other’s flourishing.

I assume Dr Waldinger would say all three are valid and contribute to your happiness. But I would argue only one, the virtuous kind, is built to last. As Aristotle notes, “Friendship of Virtue… continues because two people are friends because of The Good each person represents.” That’s why the saying, “you have friends for a season, a reason, or a lifetime,” resonates so deeply for me. Given all of the transitions I have gone through, I have had to come to terms with what type of friendship I have with an individual. Friendship, like any meaningful relationship, requires something from both people. But the return can be profound.

That’s certainly been true in my life. The friends I’ve kept over time are those I admire for their character, their humor, and their intelligence—even when we may disagree on politics or religion. My best friends have also always included some sort of shared activity. And it was during our time engaging in these activities that genuine honesty would emerge and our loyalty to each other would deepen.

I guess this is one of the blessings of the modern world: while proximity once defined possibility, we now have more freedom to choose our contexts. When I was deployed on an Aircraft carrier to the Persian Gulf in 1993 and 1995, there was no internet. There were only letters and “mail call.” My relationships were nurtured through the written word. And, to be honest, I did not write often—if at all—to my male friends. It was only to my wife and family. I had new “naval aviation” friends with whom I was traveling the world. However, I had lost touch with my high school and Naval Academy cohorts.

Today, it is easier to keep up with people’s lives on Facebook. Texts are much simpler than letters. And it’s easier to plan a trip, meet halfway for a ride, or book a long weekend in the mountains. As Dr Waldinger suggests, it is this sort of investment that is needed.

The Next Chapter

In his talk, Dr. Waldinger emphasizes the power of shared passions. In his talk, he says, “follow your interests... rub elbows with the same people again and again.” This is exactly what I’m starting to do in Sun Valley: meeting guys on the trails, slopes, and weekend activities to start to build that connective tissue. The terrain is different, but the rhythm is familiar. We sweat; we laugh; we crash. But now there’s more at stake than simply finding people to ride with. I’m not just passing through this time. Dan and I have chosen to make a home here (at least for now). I don’t know yet what this chapter will hold, yet I have been thinking a lot about how this shift changes how I think about friendship, the ones I want to continue to invest in, and the ones I want to build. I don’t just want to live in Sun Valley, I want to feel connected. But I know what I’m hoping for: a new circle, forged by effort and choice. I want to find men of character. As Putarch writes: “Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried…” That discipline, valuing character before closeness, is exactly the filter I’m using as I both hold onto old friendships and build new ones. It will take time.

To be clear, I’m not trying to meet everyone. I’m trying to meet the right few and to invest, over time, with care and consistency. Because if the science and the philosophy are right, those few will make all the difference to the value of the life I experience and the legacy I leave.

Final Outreach

Dr. Waldinger closes his talk with a deceptively simple call to action: think of a friend and reach out. In our world of text messages and DMs, you don’t even have to pick up the phone. He says you will be surprised by the response. I recently did this with a very close friend from Oakland, whom I didn't get to say goodbye to before we left, and it was such a wonderful feeling to feel the reciprocation of mutual admiration. And as both the Greeks and Dr Waldinger would argue, for the friendships that matter (the virtuous ones), it’s precisely those small gestures that sustain the connection. As C. S. Lewis observed, such bonds are “a deeply appreciative love”—a friendship chosen and cherished, not incidental. The outreach becomes the investment.

So this chapter will be interesting. It’s about establishing new friendships in a new place, yes, but it’s also about tending to the old ones, with intention and care. Because in the end, connection isn’t just a measure of happiness. It’s the work of a life well-lived.