Every few years I will get notified that one of my child hood friends has died from either murder, self harm, drunk driving, or overdose.

That used to happen a lot. Every vice is ~doubled in freqency in Alaska, but drinking too much is a particular favorite there. Hard drinkers tend not to get old, so after I got old I didn't hear as much that the survivors of our youths had died.

Sounds like your father was a strong/hard man. Hard times make men strong but also make us capable of a higher level of cruelty. Which is needed to defend ourselves.

He grew up with 13 siblings in the Great Depression. He dropped out of school in the 7th grade because he had only two shoes, one was white and one was black, and he took a lot of crap for it. He joined the military at 17 and credits it with making him 'a man', whatever that meant to him. It did make him tough. It didn't make him gentle. Before he died he lost all memory and didn't even know who I was. During a conversation he'd continually forget again. It is very weird introducing yourself to your father over and over again.

But at that point he was 84, and I couldn't hold anything he did against him. He didn't know he had done anything, neither the good nor the bad. He taught me to hunt, for which I will always be grateful, as I feel it connects me to my humanity in a deeply significant way, and the skills and work of taking game are as challenging as you are willing to undertake. I learned (by doing) that persistence hunting is a thing. A man with a monogut and a bit of belly fat can always outpace a ruminant with little fat, and if you can track you will find their feet still in their tracks eventually. That is hard work, and I credit it with my robust physical condition, despite my injury to my back in my 30s and the heart attack I had 5 years ago.

A poor person immigrating to the US and getting swallowed up by the streets is the opposite of the American dream but it happens a lot

Given the bait they are offered, the incredible welfare benefits, and the open border that only recently has (more) closed, many of them were set up for failure through going straight to welfare and not attempting to achieve the American dream of working hard and getting enough. I have very good friends that came here and skipped the welfare, worked hard, hard and for their families, I deeply respect. Not drinking buddies, but work buddies, and work is my second favorite hobby after hunting, so I get to enjoy it a lot.

Made my Christmas even better and very unique this year.

I judge myself less by my achievement of my goals, than by my impact on my fellows. I reckon I won't kick myself over this last Christmas too much because of that, and more importantly, have enjoyed our deeply personal interactions, albeit over computers rather than in person. This has indeed been a unique Christmas, and I'm very glad of it. Who'da thunk a kid from the mean streets and a kid from the deep woods would make this kind of connection on Hive?