"Happy Monday"

This is a story about the benefits of what I call intentional friendship.

In the fall of 1988, I met a woman who would soon become one of my fast friends. Susan, 31, was nine years older than I was, and married, so there was never any dating or thinking of dating. She was finishing grad school in painting, and looking forward to starting her own children's book illustration business. I was a fresh-out-of-college cartographer, and I wanted to start my own graphic design business.

We met at a temp job at a then-small real estate investment company. Chatting in the office, we discovered our common interests in art and design. Over lunch we shared about our ambitions and dreams and relationships, and we laughed more than usual for newfound acquaintances. Within three months, we had each struck out on our own and opened our own offices a block apart in downtown San Francisco.

So often, promising new friendships just drift away and wither and die. Susan and I would meet by accident on the street every few weeks and would rediscover how much we enjoyed spending time together. So, rather than let time and circumstance take its toll, I proposed to her that we check in with each other once a week by phone or in person. It could be short and sweet, or it could be a long lunch or phone call, but it had to be once a week.

It worked! We stuck to it. For over seven years--from 1989 to 1996--we spoke together one way or another practically every Monday. The phone would ring, I would say "Hello," and she would say "Happy Monday!" Over the years her business grew and flourished, she moved to the Sierras, her marriage fell apart, and she started dating again. My business grew too, I had several relationships, and started training aikido. Through it all, we both continued to mature and deepen as individuals as we put ourselves out into the world. The support of our weekly phone calls meant the world to me as home, work, and love changed constantly around the both of us. Happy Mondays indeed!

But then, as we moved into more divergent phases of our lives, our contact dwindled ever so slightly, first becoming every other week, then perhaps once a month, and then even less frequent. Still, though, we could immediately drop back into our deep and comfortable place of contact when the phone would ring and I would hear that simple opening phrase, "Happy Monday!" An old friend was back again. All the worries of the world could drop away for a short while. Occasionally we would get together for a visit, usually involving me attending one of her book signings or public presentations in San Francisco, or her inviting me and my friends to visit at her funky but cozy Sierra lodge. In 2004, Maria and I celebrated our honeymoon in the newly-built apartment in her mountain home.

Now, after knowing each other almost 20 years, she has moved to New Mexico, and I have moved to Marin, gotten married, and focused on life here. We are now in touch once or twice a year, but still, every phone call starts with that reassuring phrase, "Happy Monday!"