“He stopped breathing so I jumped down from my bunk and punched him, in the face” -J.W. Anderson
My Grampa Jack was the king of tall tales, there had to be some truth in there somewhere but it was certainly blinged out like Snoop Dog!
He told this story about working in a logging camp and one of the men was a big guy who snored like a chainsaw but had sleep apnea and all of the men would hold their breath when he quit snoring for fear that he wouldn’t wake up. Now I am not sure if my Grampa actually punched the guy, but the guy certainly woke up!
What I take away from this is that a true friendship can survive a “punch in the face”.
If someone you care about is doing something that you worry might kill them, injure them, hurt them or destroy them physically, emotionally, mentally or financially don’t we owe it to the friendship to “punch them in the face”?
Equally so we owe it to a true friendship to gracefully accept a “punch in the face” now and then…
My cool cat Grampa on the left probably around 1936