Pastabilities, Friendship, and the Power of Fettuccini Alfredo

The calendar has turned to fall here in Central New York, and that means only one thing.

Pasta.

Well, two things. Pasta and friendship.

Every September, when the evenings turn cool and crisp and the orchards fill with families chasing apples and cider, I wait for a familiar text from my long-time friend Mike. It always reads the same way:

“Check your calendars, boys. It’s time to get AlfredoFest booked.”

Almost forty years ago, Mike invited a couple of us over for his homemade fettuccini alfredo. That first meal launched a tradition equal parts artery-clogging and soul-filling.

Over the years, kids, relocations, and work detours pushed AlfredoFest aside, but now, as empty nesters back in the same time zone, we’ve resurrected it. And let me tell you, Wegmans sees its butter and cream inventory dip dramatically every time the date is set. Mike’s wife, a clinical dietitian, has learned to close her eyes, ignore the cholesterol math, and surrender her kitchen.

But here’s the thing: as good as the pasta is, it’s never been about the Alfredo.

It’s about the people around the table.

Setting the Table for Happiness

I’ve often wondered if happiness can be measured. Sadness and depression can be tracked, studied, and treated. But happiness? It feels more like a condition you prepare for than a state you can hold onto. You can’t make someone happy, but you can set the table and invite it in.

For me, friendship is always one of those place settings. Science agrees.

Research shows that close friendships lower stress, boost self-esteem, guard against depression, even extend our lives. My cardiologist would probably argue that AlfredoFest does none of the above, but I’d counter that laughter, conversation, and connection are their own kind of medicine.

Friendship Over the Years

My friendship stories aren’t unique. They are just my stories. They stretch across the arc of my life from my youth, through work, and now, on into my retirement years.

College: I met my best friend under less-than-noble circumstances, literally at the bottom of a human pyramid during Freshman Orientation. Nearly fifty years later, he’s still in my life. Proof that sometimes the best networking predates LinkedIn.

Career: I spent years running sales kickoffs at Nuance. The presentations mattered, but the highlight was reconnecting with colleagues who became friends. Sharing a beer (or two…boy, those Europeans can drink), swapping stories, and remembering why we liked working together in the first place.

Retirement: These days, pickleball provides the backdrop. The game is fine, the exercise is good, but the real gift is the friendships forged across the net. I met one of my closest friends this way, technically through racquetball, but now we’re older, so pickleball it is. The steps I take may keep me healthy, but it’s the laughter during changeovers that keeps me alive.

Friendship has carried me like a river through celebrations and struggles alike. I don’t know what waits at the mouth of that river, but I do know I won’t be standing there alone.

Friendship at the End

I also know this: friendship is often clearest at life’s hardest edges.

I learned that when I stood at the pulpit delivering a eulogy for my best friend, gone too soon to cancer. I had never written one before, and I struggled. Should I highlight his accomplishments, speak of faith, or offer comfort?

In the end, I wrote about what his friendship meant to me. Because that, I realized, was the true measure of his life. Friendship.

I return to that eulogy every year, reread it, and shed a few tears. And there is one line that still guides me:

"Friendships should always offer insight into the person you wish to become."

Now I see a bit of that lesson in every friend I make. Old friends and new ones alike help me through difficult times, bring joy to ordinary days, and, most importantly, push me to become a better person.

The Alfredo Lesson

That’s the real lesson of AlfredoFest. Friendship isn’t a luxury item to tuck away like gold in a safety-deposit box. It’s more like butter and cream, meant to be used, shared, maybe even overindulged in once in a while.

So, treasure your friends. Laugh with them, lean on them, make time for them. Build your own traditions, whether it’s pasta, pickleball, or something only your group understands.

Because friendship, like Alfredo, is meant to be savored.

And both are better when the table is full.

Dan Troup is The Sunny Side of 57. He loves to reflect and write about life, family, career, and retirement. Check out more of his reflections on his blog site. Also, consider subscribing to The Sunny Side of 57. When not playing pickleball or hiking with Sue and Rigby, he (tries) to write a new post one to two times a month.