Over the just concluded holiday weekend, we were expecting two guests at our home — my brother and his wife from Idaho. As evening approached Friday evening, nine more people were added to the guest list — more family.

This was all well and good. We enjoy company. Roasted chicken thighs were on the menu for the evening, so I was sent to the store to pick up more chicken.

As I stood in the meat department of the store contemplating the options, I was greeted by a woman who I haven’t seen in a while.

She said, “You know, I don’t see you all that often, but I feel like you’re my best friend. I feel like I know where you’ve been, what you’re doing and what you think about things.”

Of course, she was referring to the apparent habit that she and her husband have of reading “Inside Sanpete.” (The poor people evidently have a lot of time on their hands, or haven’t heard about public libraries.)

We had a good little visit. As I put chicken thighs into my shopping basket, I wondered to myself if perhaps I’ve been disclosing too much about my life here in the paper. But I quickly didn’t allow that to become a worry. I mean, what else do I have to say here?

It’s not like I’m a version of Abigail Van Buren (Dear Abby) who was a famous advice columnist. She was known for her honest, entertaining, and snappy answers.

One memorable letter and reply from her column:

“Dear Abby: Is it possible for a man to be in love with two women at the same time?” Signed: Jake

“Dear Jake: Yes, and also hazardous!”

And, I’m not a medical doctor who’s qualified to write health information columns. Nor am I a political “know it all” who can dispense deep knowledge about the complex politics of our world.

As it turns out, what I can do here in this column is let you, the reader, in on a portion of my life, as I live it here in Sanpete. And if you sense a friendly connection from that, I’m all for it. As I reported here recently, friendliness contributes to long life (as does ice cream!).

If you want to be my best friend, I have no problem with that. I actually thought of testing the friendship of the woman in the grocery store.

I imagined how this scenario would have worked out:

Me: “Since we are kind of best friends, I’m wondering if you could lend me a couple hundred bucks? We have a lot of company coming and I’m thinking it would be nice to impress them with rib-eye steaks.”

Her: “You know Merrill, Sanpete is famous for turkey. Here’s a twenty to help. I’ll expect it back on Monday. On second thought, friends don’t allow friends to get into debt. Enjoy that chicken.”

As I think back on my newspaper reading since I was a kid, I have “connection feelings” and memories with columnists over the years. I was, in fact, a reader of “Dear Abby” columns. Abby’s twin sister, Ann Landers, had a similar advice column. I read that one as well.

I used to read Sydney Harris. He died long ago, but I still remember his way with words. He would occasionally do columns titled “Things I Learned While Looking Up Other Things.” Those were my favorites.

He was often philosophical. A couple of quotes: “Happiness is a direction, not a place.” “The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.”

Dave Barry was a nationally syndicated humorous columnist. We became “best friends” in the same way, as my friend in the store connected with me. Dave could be really funny and was sometimes a little “edgy.” He took a break from his weekly column in 2004.

It was announced that the break would be an indefinite period of time, but for at least a year. He’s written some things since then, but never returned to his column.

A couple of his quotes: “People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.”

And since I did say Dave could be a bit edgy, I’ll throw this one in: “It’s a well documented fact that guys will not ask for directions. This is a biological thing. This is why it takes several million sperm cells…to locate a female egg, despite the fact that the egg is, relative to them, the size of Wisconsin.”

So, I guess what I’m getting to and saying is that I “get” what it’s like to feel a connection with a columnist. There are quite a few columnists I’ve read over the years (not even counting sports columns). Dan Valentine was always good — rest in peace. George Will is 85 and still writes a column twice a week for the Washington Post. I saw him in person as a keynote speaker at a convention after he wrote his baseball book, “Men at Work.”

I met Robert Kirby two or three times. He retired from “The Salt Lake Tribune” in 2021. When he spoke at a Sanpete County Farm Bureau annual dinner in Moroni, I had a little conversation with him.

That night, he autographed his book “Pat and Kirby Go to Hell” for me. The inscription reads: “Merrill, Satan Likes you Best – R. Kirby” He was an example of me feeling like I was his best friend. But then, I wondered, after I read what he wrote in that book — which was an example of his off-beat humor.

It’s a different world now. I sometimes get up early to let Archer, the ancient, wonder Sheltie dog, out for his morning “devotionals.” Even though it’s been years since home delivery, I’ll sometimes drowsily look down on the front porch expecting to see a newspaper.

In our “neck of the woods,” papers don’t arrive that way anymore — sad to say. But, never fear, your trusty “Pyramid” is “here” — arriving in your mailbox weekly.

And, you’ve got “friends” to keep up with in that paper. There’s me, and also, Conovers, with their “Sunday Drive” column. You can never have too many friends. — Merrill