"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened"

 

Noel (left) and I at Wewak in New Guinea sometime in the early 70s

 

Almost thirty years ago, which is almost longer than we had known each other, my best friend Noel Butler died. He was a remarkably unremarkable man, and yet, the life that he had chosen for himself and the peculiar strength and self-reliance of his character had a great influence on me so that, long after his death, I still remember him as a very remarkable man.

Basically your friends are not your friends for any particular reason. They are your friends for no particular reason. The job you do, the family you have, the way you vote, the major achievements and blunders of your life, your religious convictions or lack of them, are all somehow set off to one side when the two of you get together.

If you are old friends, you know all those things about each other and a lot more besides, but they are beside the point. Even if you talk about them, they are beside the point. Stripped, humanly speaking, to the bare essentials, you are yourselves the point. The usual distinctions of older-younger, richer-poorer, smarter-dumber, male-female even, cease to matter. You meet with a clean slate every time, and you meet on equal terms. Anything may come of it or nothing may. That doesn't matter either. Only the meeting matters.

 

"Dear Pete, Hope your outlook on the future is not as black as this. Mine is but that's inevitable."

 

Noel Butler was such a friend. Some friends are more or less replaceable with other friends. Noel was not. I last heard from him around this time thirty years ago. He'd sent me a "Greetings from Childers by Night" postcard which was all black except for those words. On the back he had written, "Dear Peter, Hope your outlook on the future is not as black as this; mine is but that's inevitable." I was then far too young and far too busy and far too full of myself to think that this was more than just a funny card. Four months later, Noel was dead.

His card from thirty years ago, beautifully framed, takes pride of place on our mantelpiece, and I console myself with those words so often attributed to "Dr. Seuss": "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened". In fact, they were written by an obscure German poet, Ludwig Jacobowski, in his poem "Bright Days": "Nicht weinen, weil sie vorüber! Lächeln, weil sie gewesen!". I thought you might like to know.

 

Bright Days by Ludwig Jacobowski Ah, our brilliant days shine like eternal stars, They glow past as consolation for future sorrow. Don’t cry because it’s over! Smile because they have been! And if the days get cloudier, Our stars redeem!

 

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