Friends: Felix and Joel
My dad and his best friend
My father and Joel’s friendship is like one of a young couple who has just decided to pursue an exclusive relationship. They speak often and for hours, sharing minor details about their days but these two friends have been talking for nearly 40 years—far past the honeymoon phase.
We are on a family trip near Naples, Florida over the winter holidays. Joel and his wife recently bought a home in the area and we are sitting in their living room when I begin to interview my dad and Joel.
It takes them at least 10 minutes to stop talking. They are in the middle of a conversation that takes precedence.
“How did you meet?” I ask them. A question that is met with laughter.
“He remembers all the dates,” says Joel. “The first time I saw Felix was when he came to buy a car from me.”
“No, I didn’t come see the car. I phoned,” says my dad—correcting Joel. “The first time I saw Joel was beside our friend Cobe’s house in 1985.”
They were introduced through mutual friends. Joel had heard that my dad was a car dealer and he wanted some guidance on pursuing his dealer’s license. “I introduced him to my insurance broker and we went to the auction in Oshawa together,” says my dad.
“We used to hang out at my mom’s house and Felix came with me to buy my dog, Clyde,” explains Joel.
They both clearly remember buying the German Shepherd. “We went to an apartment building in Scarborough and we got up there and saw a man selling puppies. All of them were sleepy but Clyde was happy and had a white tip on his tail. I paid $85 for him,” says Joel.
“We did a lot of things together,” says my dad.
“It was a different time back then. We didn’t phone one another to ask who is free,” says Joel.
“We didn’t plan things. I would just ring his doorbell and show up,” says my dad.
“Some friends could be over and we’d say, ‘Who wants to go to Florida?’ And two hours later we’d drive to Florida,” says Joel.
One summer the two adventured to Montreal and stayed at McGill University.
“We were there to finish our PhDs,” says Joel.
“We were there for the Formula One Grand Prix,” says my dad.
“How did we find the rooms at McGill without the internet?” asks Joel.
“I don’t know,” says my dad. “Oh, from my friend Moshe.”
Each of my questions necessitates a longer discussion between the pair. I can often predict at what moments of the day my dad will phone his best friend. During our trip to Florida, for instance, he called Joel after taking a bite into a croissant that he enjoyed, photographing the pastry to send evidence of its flakiness over WhatsApp.
It is rare to find a witness so interested in another’s life. Over their decades-long friendship, my dad has always considered Joel his Consigliere—valuing his business advice in particular.
“In 1987, my parents moved further north to Elgin Mills and all of my friends were at Bathurst and Steeles. It was like going to live on the moon and Bathurst was one lane at the time,” says my dad.
“We still made the effort. If you don’t make one call it changes everything,” says Joel.
By my record, the two speak on the phone at least twice a day. When I ask them what their secret to success is, they both agree that it is mutual respect. “If there is jealousy, it’s a shitty friendship,” says Joel.
“In friendships, there are followers and doers. Without doers, nothing gets done. Someone has to organize,” says Joel.
“When I had my surgery for Crohn’s, Joel called me every single day,” says my dad.
“Yes, he always remembers that,” adds my mom who is listening.
“I don’t remember,” says Joel.
My dad calls Joel again on our way home.
"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'"
—C.S. Lewis