Every Couch in America

Usually it’s safe to assume that a director who finds his comedy in erotic asphyxiation hasn’t set out to uphold those traits most noble in the human race. Perhaps that’s why Bobcat Goldthwait surprised me with a moment of soft, glimmering truth I found in his 2009 film, “World’s Greatest Dad."

Right at the end, sitting on the couch, Robin Williams’ character watches a Zombie movie marathon with the only friends he has left after forging his dead kid’s diary. These faithful allies are a hoarder neighbor in her late sixties and the soft-spoken, vegetarian teen friend of the dead son.

As the merry bunch settles in to view the lethargic undead pick at their cerebral victuals, I can’t help but smile. “They got it.”

For the first time in a long time I was seeing an unlikely band of misfits similar to the ones my own unconventional childhood had offered.

Among my nearest and dearest are a former monk who gave me his old paintbrushes when I said I liked my art class, a handyman who gifted me my wristwatch on our first meeting, and an elderly Croatian woman with homespun advice on how to keep a husband (lots of perfume; never let him see you sweat; fake your orgasm when necessary).

They are all single, all a bit morose, and all willing to take a teenie-bopper seriously when she offers her opinions on death, film, and happiness.

The downcast, the marginalized, the financially struggling, the old souls with checkered pasts. They are wonderful, these people the world doesn’t seem to regard. This article is the first in a bi-monthly column on how to love these beautiful yet undervalued members of society well. Let’s start with a few points on why you should strive to form close relationships with the marginalized people you meet:

“You will learn more from people who are not like you.”

At a school filled to the brim with self-motivated young people on the cusp of changing the world, it can—for some—be as easy as pie to make good friends. When faced with the opportunity to find besties whose lives run in parallel to yours, it can be difficult to justify reaching out to that kid hunched over his book in the dhall or to the musician on the first floor marching to the beat of his own drum. If the fit isn’t natural, why bother looking for friends outside your comfort zone?

I think it’s very dangerous to make your soirées no more than gatherings of like-minded individuals. When we surround ourselves with people who think like us, look like us, read the same books, toy with the same career paths, we lose sight of the variety this world has to offer.

As a result, our beliefs become falsely cemented simply because we have forgotten that there are reasonable people out there who disagree.

Moreover, particularly for Harvard students, our picture of the future becomes a Stepford series of landmarks (job, spouse, house, kids, boat) that I doubt anyone really finds satisfying. In the name of understanding the world around you better, strive to befriend those who live radically different lives from your own.

“People with fewer friends are more likely to be good friends.”

Those who don’t seem like totally covetous best friend material at first typically end up having the time and emotional energy to invest in being a friend, precisely because they aren’t being bombarded with invitations.

I sincerely believe that the marginalized can make for better friends than the well-adjusted in-crowd. When you don’t know how long it will be before another human really wants to enter your life, the urgency of planning that weekly meal forges a steadfast bond. Don’t be surprised if you spend several consecutive nights in your new friend’s room, drinking in the pleasure of each other’s company. This kind of friendship far surpasses the social garnishing we engage in once we feel “all set” in the friend department.

“You will make yourself aware of the fragility of your own privilege.”

Have you ever not had your life totally figured out? Did you take a semester off school, get an unexpected injury? Then you know how quickly this world is willing to boot you out.

If you haven’t had that experience yet, just wait: it will come. I don’t wish any evil upon you. But some well-educated, practical, financially stable person gets thrown one of life’s curve balls every day.

Holding fast to loved ones in their not-so-lucky chapters (or not-so-lucky lives) provides an invaluable perspective on what is constant in this world and what is not.

I’d love to go farther and say that the people you love when their chips are down are more likely to return the favor. I’m not sure if that’s true. Either way, good people is good people.

Knowing what you can rely on in this world teaches you how to build a life that won’t crumble away with life’s misfortunes, and that, in itself, is a grand security. Let’s take friendship seriously, throw ourselves unabashedly into the lives of those who need us most, and see what good it does.

Veronica S. Wickline ’16, an ancient history concentrator, lives in Kirkland House.