The sad phenomenon that is making us lose one of our greatest treasures

In February 1938, American writer, designer and historian Philip Van Doren Stern (1900-1984) woke up thinking about a story.

A beautiful prayer for a farewell between tears
The importance of things that happen when you are waiting for other things

After much thought, he started writing it in 1939. He finished it four years later, during World War II, but couldn't find a publisher willing to publish it. The story was titled "The Greatest Gift" and was set in a town called Bedford Falls, a fictional place inspired by the small town of California, New Jersey.

The story was about a man named George Pratt who, due to life's misfortunes, one day decides that it would have been better if he had never been born. A strange man appears to him and grants him his wish to know what the world would be like without him. The protagonist then discovers the terrible effects his absence has had on the lives of his loved ones. George then understands the greatest gift he has ever received: the gift of life. The strange man gives him back his existence.

Lacking publishers, Philip Van Doren Stern made 200 copies of this story on his own, which he distributed among his friends at Christmas 1943. Finally, the story reached RKO, which bought the rights in April 1944. In 1945, filmmaker Frank Capra bought the rights to this story and based his fabulous film "It's a Wonderful Life" (1946) on it, set in Bedford Falls and starring James Stewart as George Bailey. In the film, an angel who has to earn his wings takes the place of the strange man. At the end of the film, there is a moment that always moves me. George reads a note that the angel left him: "Remember, no man is a failure who has friends."

A few days ago I experienced the most painful moment of my life. Besides my family, which is the greatest treasure a person can have (a treasure that far surpasses all the riches in the world, and next to which they are worth absolutely nothing), I can say that I felt fortunate to be surrounded by my friends, some of whom I see frequently and others whom I see very little. Some traveled a great distance to be with us on that day.

Any observer would be surprised by the variety of people gathered there, just a few meters from the coffin containing my father's remains. Among those present were people of different ideologies and beliefs, some opposed to each other. For me, the important thing is the common denominator of all those who came: I consider them all good people. That's what matters to me. They know they can always count on me, and I know I can count on them, as they showed me last week. Being able to say this makes me a very lucky man, and I thank God for it.

We live in a society where there are many different opinions. Of course, there are good people and there are bad people, but having a certain way of thinking doesn't always determine which side you're on, and the big mistake many of us sometimes make is forgetting something as basic as that. Political, religious, and philosophical debate is getting so out of hand that it's causing us to lose one of the greatest treasures a person can have: friendship, that wonderful and mysterious force by which very different people meet on a path, sometimes by pure chance, and end up creating lasting bonds stronger than steel.

We shouldn't have to go through the ordeal of seeing the shadow of death pass over our home to remember something like this, but it's normal that routine and the great inertia of current affairs end up dragging us down and making us forget such basic things, pushing us towards that sad phenomenon of politics invading everything and ending up degrading even the strongest friendships, filling with hatred that valuable space that was previously occupied by affection. And the saddest thing is that there are people whose purpose in life seems to be to set others against each other, simply to gain political advantage over the confrontation they fuel. People who benefit from tension, from us seeing enemies in our friends, from friendships breaking up, and from us hating even those who appreciated us.

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Image: frame from the film "It's a Wonderful Life" (1946).