“The service stations  
are centers of business  
and conversation…  
they are like the  
old general stores.”

John Steinbeck
in Travels with Charley

“Fill ‘er up!” Now there’s a phrase you don’t hear any more. The term “service station” itself is basically obsolete here in California, where patrons must pump their own gas and, in many cases, pay for their purchase without any human contact whatsoever. 

You want the windshield washed? There’s a tool for that,… sometimes. Check the air in your tires? You’re on your own for that, too.  Sadly, there are many places where an additional fee is charged for adding air to your tires. Things sure ain’t what they used to be.

I mention all this because of a unique experience I had at the local gas station the other day. I pulled into the Rotten Robbie facility at Saratoga Avenue and Williams Road to refill the tank of my 2005 Honda Accord. As I stepped out of my vehicle, I recognized a friend, Steve, who had just paid for refueling his vehicle. Much to my surprise, and his, too, perhaps, we had a lengthy and meaningful conversation about kids, parenting, and life in general. Fortunately, our mid-day conversation did not inconvenience any other customers. We had an amazing heart-to-heart discussion as we caught up on each other’s lives. 

This unexpected conversation gave me a sense of hope. In recent months, I’ve been struggling with the realization that I have very few authentic male friends. Oh, sure, I know lots of people. There are neighbors, relatives, former coworkers and classmates, and friends of friends, but I was hard-pressed to identify even three individuals I could legitimately call a true friend. 

A plethora of information is available to confirm my observation, articles detailing the problem men have with maintaining quality friendships with other men. I’ve read much of this literature without giving it much thought. I accepted that that’s just how it is in the world today. I was wrong.

Like any healthy relationship, men’s friendships with other men require nurturing. They require time, attention, consistency, resilience, vulnerability, and so much more. As I reflected on my lack of male friendships these past few months, I didn’t recognize that I was doing nothing to nurture these relationships. I spent my time complaining, mostly to myself, that no one reached out to me, when I was failing to reach out to them, as well. The brief encounter with Steve at the gas station the other day reminded me that nurturing friendships requires conscientious effort on my part. 

For this reason, I sat down at my desk that night and created a list of guys who are a part of my life. From that list, I identified my “starting five.” My experience coaching basketball taught me the importance of knowing my starting five players. These were the athletes I could depend upon to get the job done. Then I filled in my friend roster with the remainder of players. And just as is done in competitive athletics, I had to cut a few players — guys who, for whatever reason, could not be relied upon to consistently commit to the betterment of the team.

The next step has involved nurturing my relationships with my starting five — letting them know how much they mean to me and how much I need them in my life. I will then increasingly devote my attention to the rest of the guys on my team, making a concerted effort to be more attentive to them, to their needs, and to my need for them in my life.

No longer am I too preoccupied with my career and raising kids to devote time and attention to nurturing much-needed male friendships. I don’t need to be close friends with every guy I know. It doesn’t matter to me if I’m not one of their starting five. What matters is that they know how much they mean to me. How they respond, one way or another, is their gift to me.