Has your idea of what makes a good friend changed as you’ve gotten older?

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Scott and I after Lizzi’s baptism in 1998.

That’s an interesting question, but I think it makes an assumption that isn’t necessarily true. Why should my definition of a good friend change just because I’ve gotten older? If I knew what made someone a good friend when I was 25, why would I need a different definition at 60?

The truth is, I don’t think my definition has changed at all. If anything, my belief in what makes someone a good friend has only gotten stronger. The bar hasn’t moved. I’ve just had another 35 years to see who could clear it.

I’ve always believed that loyalty is the most important quality in a friendship. That doesn’t mean blind loyalty, where someone agrees with everything I say or supports every stupid decision I make. Sometimes the best thing a friend can do is tell me I’m wrong. But there’s a difference between disagreeing with someone and abandoning them. A true friend can tell you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it, without making you question whether he’ll still be there tomorrow.

I felt that way when I was younger, too. If someone had betrayed my trust or deliberately stabbed me in the back when I was 25, I doubt I would have kept that person as a friend. I certainly wouldn’t today. Loyalty wasn’t something I discovered as I got older. It was something I valued from the beginning.

What has changed is that I’ve had a lot more opportunities to see what loyalty looks like in practice.

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I’ve had plenty of friends over the years. Some were close friends at one time, people I spent a lot of time with and shared important experiences with. But life has a way of changing relationships. People move away, get married, raise families, change jobs and develop different interests. Before you know it, someone you once saw every day becomes someone you exchange Christmas greetings with, if that.

That doesn’t mean those people were bad friends. It doesn’t even mean they weren’t loyal. Sometimes friendships simply fade because the circumstances that brought people together no longer exist. I still consider many of those people friends, even if we haven’t talked in years.

But then there’s Scott.

We’ve been friends since 1990, and in the years since, we’ve been through just about everything life can throw at two people. He was one of the groomsmen in my wedding in 1994. I’ve been his best man twice, and he was my best man when Daryl and I got married in 2015. We’re godfathers to each other’s children. We’ve watched each other experience marriages, divorces, career changes, financial difficulties, the deaths of people we love and all the other joys and disappointments that come with living.

And through all of it, we’ve remained friends. Not just the kind of friends who occasionally catch up on the phone, but the kind who know that if one of us needs something, the other will be there.

Together again after a barrel tasting and selection at Four Roses in 2025

I wrote about one particularly ridiculous example of that friendship in January, in a story called There Can Be Only One. Back in 1997, Scott needed help retrieving his car from Virginia, and I agreed to go along on an adventure that probably should have involved a little more planning and a lot more common sense. The trip didn’t exactly go as intended, but it was one of those experiences that helped cement a friendship that has now lasted more than 36 years.

I didn’t go because I thought Scott might someday return the favor. I went because he was my friend and he needed help. And I know that if the situation had been reversed, he would have done the same thing for me. That’s not a theory. After all these years, it’s something both of us have demonstrated repeatedly.

Of course, we don’t agree on everything. We have different personalities, different perspectives and occasionally different opinions about things that matter. We can argue about college football, disagree about bourbon and tell each other when we think the other guy has lost his mind. None of that threatens the friendship because neither of us confuses disagreement with disloyalty.

May 2025: Toasting at my daughter’s wedding after Scott helped officiate the ceremony.

I wrote last May about the importance of Unwavering Loyalty, and I haven’t changed my mind about that, either. A true friend doesn’t have to agree with you, but he ought to be someone you can trust to tell you the truth, keep your confidence and stand beside you when life gets difficult. And, of course, you owe him exactly the same thing.

I suppose some people might look at my life and think I have a pretty small circle of friends. They’re right. I’ve known hundreds of people over the years, and I’ve been fortunate to call many of them friends. But there’s a difference between being friendly with someone, sharing common interests and having the kind of friendship that survives decades of changing circumstances.

When it comes to that kind of friendship, I can count my true friends, outside of family, on one finger.

His name is Scott.

So, no, my idea of what makes a good friend hasn’t changed as I’ve gotten older. At 25, I thought I knew what loyalty, trust and friendship were supposed to look like. At 60, I’ve had another 35 years to find out whether I was right.

The bar hasn’t moved. I’ve just come to appreciate the one guy who’s always cleared it.

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Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.