By Don Hall

In your daily walk, you will encounter, and perhaps, befriend a lot of people. Some of those people require nothing from you and you require nothing from them and, if given time, a bridge of simple mutual enjoyment is built. Others will need things from you and you will find that you need things from them and both fulfill those needs through transaction of time and talent and another bridge of a different sort is built. 

Then there are the one-way bridges.

I tend to avoid closer relationships with those whom I work with. Not certain how that developed but if I had to guess and play armchair psychoanalyst on myself, I’d say it was due to my moving around so much as a kid. A different elementary school from grades K–8 will instill a sense of impermanence in anyone’s life. Rather than be likable, I developed the desire to be useful.

In my adult relationships, so many of them have been work-related (including my second marriage), I can’t say I have too many close friendships as a result. The secondary result is that in my quest to be useful, to be the guy who gets things done, I tend to attract a lot of single-track bridge dwellers. The simplex bridge is that bridge that allows for me to be someone who gets things done for them and has no return route in any sort of reciprocation.

These are the bridges in need of burning. These are the bridges I have burned.

The tricky thing for me is that I’m generally pretty trusting. I assume the best in most people and I do what I can to help. This isn’t to say that I’m not — at least 60 percent of the time — a genuine, bonafide asshole. Just that I’m a generous, trusting asshole. I may be a bit of a misanthrope, but if it’s your birthday and you’re on my kidney list (the short list of people I’d give a kidney to should they need it) and you need something, I’ll bend over in a bizarre, gorilla-licking-his-own-bunghole yoga position to make sure you get it. The downside to being trusting is the almost willing stupidity that obfuscates those red flags — it isn’t like these one-way bridges build themselves.

A thing I learned from my dad is that once you’re done with someone, be done. He took in three different men to mentor so he could eventually hand over his very successful real estate business over and, in all three cases, these younger men went behind his back and tried to poach his business, stole money from him, and went on the attack when he discovered their duplicitousness. These were his friends and one was almost like another son to him. Nonetheless, once betrayed, my dad learned the lesson and then erased their very existence from his mind.

While not the most forgiving example, it has been one that has served me well. I am only reminded of these one-way bridges via social media from time to time and, in the end, while I actively choose to reflect on the positives, I’m ultimately happier to have burned them.

For example (and the reason I’m tripping down this topic in the first place), someone I thought of in terms of real positivity in my theatre days in Chicago, randomly wrote this:

“I asked a friend of mine, who’s friends with someone I used to know, why that someone moved away from Chicago, and my friend replied that he burned too many bridges. This was the least surprising answer to any question I’ve ever asked.”

First, it’s sad to me that this person only sees me through the lens of “someone I used to know” given about ten years of working together. My version of things includes bringing him into the company, giving him ample room to learn the craft, providing him multiple writing and directing opportunities. It includes long talks about art, DADA, and some incredible mutual experiences in both Chicago and Scotland. I can’t however change his version with mine but, perhaps, he has employed my dad’s rule and effectively erased me. Which is fine. Ours was mostly a one-way bridge, and when access to my usefulness dried up, the bridge collapsed.

Second is the notion that I left Chicago due to burning too many bridges. I can see why that idea resonates — as I said, I’m a bit of a stubborn asshole and my propensity to lead with that quality in my younger days was immersive. Not one to follow, I tend to bristle at the uncritical approach to popular opinion and am a bit of a contrarian to boot. 

Upon reflection, I suppose part (maybe 16 percent) of my reason to uproot Dana and I and head out to the desert was to get away from some of those burnt out unidirectional bridges and forge new territory. I’d like to think I’m wiser now than I was then and new vistas without the weight of “a friend of mine, who’s friends with someone I used to know” cluttering up new relationships is nice. Thirty years in one place is bound to accrue some baggage and, given my multiple career paths and take no prisoners approach, it’s no surprise that some people back in Illinois are left holding the torched remains of a one-lane bridge I grew tired of maintaining. 

The challenge is to be able to build those bridges between yourself and others but be aware of those one-way bridges. There’s nothing wrong with them, especially if you prefer to be of use in the world. There will always be people who need what you can do for them rather than who you are, and it’s a good thing to be the kind of person who can help out others. Be prepared, if that is your type, that when you no longer provide for them on that bridge, you become an enemy even if all you finally said was “No more. You’ve bled me dry.”