I've been thinking a lot recently about the power of friendship in hard times, and especially this week about my friend Colin Moriarty.
We have a lot in common. We love history, games, books printed on paper, and period-piece television. We love bad food and good bourbon. We're both people with public-facing jobs who sometimes have a hard time in crowded rooms. We love arguments.
Politically, Colin and I are about as different as two people can be. Strangely, the polarity between his libertarian-tinged conservatism and my pseudo-socialist liberalism has not proven an impediment to our friendship. Rather, it's led to a series of rewarding, deeply-engaging discussions. When I've argued politics with Colin, it's been instructive, not destructive, and I've stopped being surprised how often we find common ground and compromise through our discourse. We're both interested in things getting better for ourselves and for other people, we just don't always agree on the best way to get there.
When I was a junior staffer at IGN, Colin took a special interest in me. He calmed me down when I was worried, offered constructive guidance when I was confused, and gave advice and assurance when I was uncertain. He opened doors to new opportunities. He offered help that made me better at my job and kind criticism that made me a stronger writer.
Colin became my office chess buddy. He's better at the game than I am, but the one time I beat him remains a sweet day in my memory. Colin gradually became somebody that I hung out with outside of work, a confidant who took an interest in my family and my future.
When my world was in meltdown after an impaired driver struck my wife and I on the Bay Bridge, Colin became deeply invested in my health and well being. Along with other friends from the IGN community, he raised funds that helped Angie and I make it through that terrible time. For two years since, he's remained a constant, encouraging, true friend, a shoulder to cry on, a source of prudent advice during hard decisions, a bedrock of compassion, and a remarkably-transparent and candid colleague.
People, even those we love most, are amalgams comprised of both grace and flaws. But I'm lucky to have a friend in Colin who has far more often come down strongly on the side of grace. He's made my life richer and more full.
Disagreement is the inevitable, precious consequence of creativity and diversity. In times of great stress and anger such as these, it's very easy to forget that. But Colin helps me remember that different ideas can be precious treasures. I'm a socially-minded, old-world true-leftist liberal and born-again Christian. My friend Colin is a staunch economic conservative who's also a pro-abortion rights religious skeptic. We're two characters who aren't really supposed to exist and who certainly aren't supposed to be friends, two aberrations among millions of other complex, angry, hurting people whose perspectives usually add up to more than the sum of some party-platform checkboxes, people whose voices are being lost in a storm of rage and fear, individuals whose beliefs and ideas are defined by far more than bitter tweets.
Our differences have proven powerful in making us better friends. I don't agree with Colin a lot of the time, but I know something about him that those who know him less well might not understand: he legitimately wants for things to turn out well for lots of people, including those who have very different ideas than himself. That's one of the many reasons I love him.
-Jared Petty