Friendship

Midway through "I Love You, Man," L.A. real estate agent Peter, played by Paul Rudd, wonders how quickly he can phone someone he just met. No, it's not a girl -- Peter's engaged. It's just that Peter, feeling like a "weirdo," needs a best man for his wedding party. And this buddy-less man -- who's always been a "girlfriend guy" -- is having a tough time navigating his way around the emotional land mines of the dude universe.

Who could have foreseen what would happen between the Mormon filmmaker and the lesbian priest? Not Douglas Hunter, even after he took a leap of faith and trained his camera on the Rev. Susan Russell. And maybe not even Russell, who had undergone a remarkable transformation from onetime suburban soccer mom to priest and outspoken champion of gay rights.

It's a risky world out there for married folks who are friends with a member of the opposite sex. Just ask U.S. Sen. John McCain. The Republican presidential candidate's relationship with a female lobbyist was the subject of a recent New York Times story and, as a result, subsequent newspaper articles, blog posts and radio commentary across the nation. He has firmly denied the relationship was anything other than simple friendship.

They could be seen as the military odd couple. The Marine colonel is tall and lean. His parents fled Castro's Cuba for U.S. democracy. He talks in measured, confident tones. His expertise is in staff work: making bureaucratic organizations run smoothly. The Iraqi general is stocky, volatile and sometimes exasperated. He sheds no tears that Saddam Hussein is gone but worries that democracy here will descend into chaos and leave the country vulnerable to attack from Iran.

The voice on the phone was familiar, if a bit weak. It's been a tough year, John Wooden said, reluctantly, because he doesn't like to make a fuss. He was in his Encino condominium, and had just been asked about the flu he'd fought off in January and the bone-breaking tumble he'd taken soon after. "It's been a bit hard, but I'm getting better," he assured. "Now, if Val's team performs to their abilities this week, that would put a smile on my face."

Outside her Bel-Air home, Nancy Reagan stood arm in arm with John McCain and offered a significant -- but less than exuberant -- endorsement. "Ronnie and I always waited until everything was decided, and then we endorsed," the Republican matriarch said in March. "Well, obviously this is the nominee of the party." They were the only words she would speak during the five-minute photo op. In a written statement, she described McCain as "a good friend for over 30 years."

Soldiers have come home from war since Ulysses' turbulent return to Ithaca -- to tearful wives and cranky babies, to brass bands playing John Philip Sousa marches and to potlucks of casseroles and coleslaw laid out by neighbors. For men like Larry Criteser, though, there were no trombones or baked beans.

Red purse, red shoes, red lips. Josephine Chavez primps her hair in the mirror one last time before heading out the door. She and the girls have two parties to attend, nine hours in high heels -- eating, laughing and dancing. It's 9:30 a.m. and she is 76 years old. Irene and Alice are 80; Armida is 82; Ruby, 84; and Mary, 85. Lucy, 88, is the oldest of today's party group because Eva, 91, canceled with a bout of heartburn.

When I think back to my school years long ago, my stomach still knots up when I remember seventh grade. After moving to the neighborhood in sixth grade, I became friends with the most popular girl in school, instantly inheriting her friends as well. I was part of the clique, always called, busy, more than happy. Sixth grade was still part of elementary school then, and we were top of the food chain.