A complex parable for our times

I once got into a scrap in the school playground. I was actually coming to the aid of a friend who was being attacked by three bullies. This was quite out of character for me. I am not the aggressive type and my puny primary schoolboy frame was hardly conducive to defending someone who, as it happened, was as puny as I was. Death or at least severe maiming for us both was imminent, when out of left field came a man on a white horse in the form of a fellow pupil, more robust than we were, who helped us fight off our attackers. We all came away bruised but unbeaten.

Our rescuer’s name was Sam and we became firm friends. We played marbles, knucklebones, swam in the

river and went to the “pictures” on a Saturday afternoon together. He was bigger and more outgoing than me, but he seemed to enjoy my friendship which endured right through to standard six. But we parted company when we went on to different secondary schools and saw less of each other as we grew into our teens.

One day he turned up at home on a motorbike. We were both about sixteen years of age and my parents were not impressed. It wasn’t the motorbike so much, although they were not enamoured with the noise and the smell of the diesel-powered engine, but the real problem was that Sam smoked. We were a family of non-smokers and mum and dad wanted to keep it that way. The potential health problems associated with smoking were not well documented back then, but among other things my parents were fearful of the house catching fire from a stray butt and the conflagration that might follow.

Sam soon sensed that he was not welcome and sadly we lost touch.

Sam moved on to greener pastures and has made a real success of his life. He became involved in a variety of business ventures and not surprisingly a cigarette factory was one of them. He exports his products to the world and has become exceedingly wealthy though recently I’ve heard that his expenditure may be exceeding his income. I run into him from time to time and he is always courteous and welcoming and we often reminisce over “the days in the old schoolyard” - as Cat Stevens would have expressed it.

He has never lost his interest in motor bikes and his ports of calls are numerous.

In later life he has become philanthropic; a veritable do-gooder, he genuinely thinks that he can solve the world’s problems by throwing money at them. He means well, but often doesn’t understand other people’s cultures and actually gets into altercations that are a little larger than the one that first forged our friendship. He has a particular philosophy on life which has stood him in good stead and he is extremely frustrated if others can’t see his point of view. I personally believe he is on the right track, but his motives are often misunderstood and he suffers greatly from the outcome.

On one occasion a few years back some malcontents invaded his backyard and did irreparable damage to one of his premises. He perhaps overreacted, but his hurt was understandable.

To be fair he has come to recognise the harm that cigarette smoking causes. He still has the odd cigar himself while he passionately encourages others to give up the deadly habit. I notice though that his own factories still keep making cigarettes while others close as a direct result of his sterling efforts to discourage the addiction.

So he is not easy to categorise and from time to time his senior staff members turn up unexpectedly with warm greetings and messages which my extended family inevitably repel.

In fact they are embarrassingly inhospitable.

Sam has always wanted to rekindle our friendship. He owns a Harley-Davidson now and he frequently wants to pop in and perhaps stay overnight. My family won’t even countenance the request. Non-smokers all, they shout down any overtures and refuse to listen.

It’s no good me reminding them of the background for the lifelong bond, and mischievously his agents will neither confirm nor deny if the Harley runs on diesel rather than petrol or if there are any cigarettes in the saddle bags.

I am always at a loss for words and don’t know how I should apologise.

Sam won’t lose any sleep. He has other friends, far more important than us, though perhaps not as longstanding. He never married, but I gather he has lots of nieces and nephews.

They all call him “Uncle.”

“Friendships that are acquired with money, and not through greatness and nobility of character, are paid for but not secured, and prove unreliable just when they are needed.” - Machiavelli