“But like Conrad’s shipmates on the Narcissus, I never saw any of them again.” James Salter closes his essay, “A Single Daring Act,” with that line about the end of his fighter pilot days in Korea.

He was referring to the wingmen and pilots who depended on one another to stay alive. Once done with Korea he heard a familiar name now and then but he didn’t hear from those who had been close friends. Survivors.

Here in this wretched year, in a time when fear stalks many, nothing seems any good. Family trips and holiday dinners are being canceled. Just about all is ruined. And that includes relationships. I’m hearing of an uptick in divorces. Being in lockdown with a mate can be stressful. It exposes cracks in the foundation.

Seems to me as well that people have holed up and turned incommunicado, and it makes me think. Why don’t friends do a better job of staying in touch? It’s not that difficult. We have cell phones, email, and even letters, which I get from readers mainly.

I have left workplaces where I made close friends, but looking back they were temporary friends, seasonal. Time separated us. Friends downgraded into acquaintances and like leaves, they lasted just so long, a season you could say. Many people blow through our lives but how many become true friends? Not many as a test five paragraphs later will reveal.

In my younger years I ran with a pack. We were cool. We were foolish too. I see young folks doing the same thing. It’s expected of them but time winnows the chaff from the grain, and they’ll drift apart. Friends and true friends are different species. In this wretched year of avoidance people aren’t exactly mixing it up, but a true friend would make time to call you, right?

Maybe I am off the mark here. Maybe not. People are like leaves. They come in many colors, shapes, and sizes. Deciduous leaves turn colorful come autumn. How nice, for a while, to count these flashy leaves as friends. Dull, consistent evergreens stand the test of time.

Maybe some friends ran their rake and judged me as a dry, brown sycamore or maple leaf. Maybe they bagged me up and tossed me onto the curb. It happens. People who divorce often become total strangers.

A rake — what a useful tool. When I taught feature writing at the USC College of Information and Communications, I advised students to run a “word” rake through their assignments. Many words did not merit inclusion. They were empty, signifying nothing, and furthermore they took up space. It just wasn’t “writerly.” Well, now and then you have to rake your friendship yard. Some leaves need to be removed.

They say you can count your true friends on one hand. That’s right, and if you don’t believe me try this sobering test should you choose burial. Who will be your pallbearers? You’ll find the list is short. Very short.

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