I have a black cat, a youthful and crotchety old man, who often comes to greet me at the door and hear me say, “Hey buddy.” I have a black pair of boots inside that same door, and sometimes in the dark I say to those boots, “Hey buddy.” Sometimes at night when exhaustion and a wide open mind compete for control of my consciousness, I make a best buddy of a couple shots of rum. When little kids who wave shyly to firemen wave and say, “Fireman,” I say, “Hey buddy.” (And they know they have a friend.) Dogs walking by get a sniff of my hand and a pat on the head and a greeting of “Hey buddy.” I’ve got my buddies I’ve grown to love over the years. Buddies in the firehouse. Buddies from my childhood. Buddies I’ve been picking up all along the way. Good buddies will catch themselves laughing, just like I do, at thoughts of funny old times. Buddies are a valuable resource. And in this world, where cruelly selfish ideals prevail, thank god for buddies. Without buddies, only the cruelly selfish would prevail.