David

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. "Pooh?" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand. "I just wanted to be sure of you.”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh 

Twenty years ago today I met my friend David.  It was just my second day working at Bank of America as a newly minted Vice President of Human Resources.  David worked for a large law firm.  He acted as employment counsel for the bank.  I remember that first meeting well.  There was a whole host of outstanding legal issues pending including a case that would be going to mandatory mediation in just a couple of weeks.  David and I spent a lot of time together in the early days of my employment at the bank.  It didn't take us long to establish a working rhythm. By the end of that first mediation, we were already finishing each others' sentences.

Over the course of the years, David and I both changed employers several times.  With each change, we stayed together.  He became employment counsel at both the companies where I worked after I left the bank.  For many years we have both been self employed.  We work together all the time now.  It is a very rare day when we don't speak to one another.  We talk about everything, the clients we share and those we don't.  We are each others' sounding boards.  We have each others' backs.

In 2001, I was robbed while on a business trip in San Franscico.  I lost all my money, I.D. and my passport.  I struggled mightily with figuring out how to get home, getting little support from the travel agency which booked my trip or the bank which employed me.  I called David.  He told me not to worry, he would get me home even if it meant he had to fly to San Francisco, rent a car and drive me back.  Within an hour, the consulate in Los Angeles issued me transit papers and faxed them to the bank's offices.  I was home as scheduled the following day.  Somehow I knew when I made that call to him that I really didn't have to worry anymore.  I knew he would help me no matter what it took. 

We have been through a lot in these twenty years.  Our kids grew up.  David lost his sister, his father and his marriage.  He became a Kabbalist.  My mom developed Alzheimer's.  I dealt with cancer.  He had multiple surgeries and a serious health scare of his own.  We argue often.  We laugh often.  We share books and ideas often. 

A few weeks ago, I took David into emergency at Mt. Sinai when we feared he was having a heart attack.  Perhaps it is the events of that day that give the best snapshot of our relationship.  I drove downtown to pick him up because he didn't want to take an ambulance.  He got into my car and commented about how ugly he thinks my sunglasses are.  We got into the emergency department and insisted that I stay with him while they did the preliminary tests for his intake.  Just before the staff moved him into the depths of the emergency department with me in tow, I stopped and asked him, "Who am I?".  "Now is the time you're having an identity crisis?", he replied.  I explained that I was not having an identity crisis but that we needed to agree who we would say I was in the event I had to make some decisions on his behalf once we were behind those doors and as a friend I have no standing.  It took us a few moments.  We couldn't pretend we are a couple - neither of us thought we could pull that off.  I suggested we say we are siblings.  It worried David a bit because lying is outside the boundaries of his Kabbalist life but I soon convinced him we were not lying.  After all, I have sisters that I am related to by blood and sisters I have chosen.  They are not any less my sisters because we are not bound by blood.  So in that moment, after nearly twenty years we defined our relationship.  I am his sister.  He is my brother.  We shook on it and walked through the doors.