Once a month or so, I enjoy a happy hour get-together with four friends. Back in the day, our children participated in the same extra-curricular activity in high school. This happened to be an extra extra-curricular, which meant our kids immersed themselves in practices and competitions nearly year-round.

Like so many other school activities, hour after hour of parent volunteer jobs and all-weather bleacher support assured that it became a family affair. So naturally, many of us became close during that shared season of life.

Over time, gathering spots on unyielding metal bleachers in stadiums and gymnasiums were eventually replaced by comfy corner booths in local restaurants. And while we continued to follow up on each others’ children, our visits became less about them and more about us. To this day, our meet-ups follow a simple pattern. We nibble, we sip and we catch up on all that’s going on; supporting each other as our lives continue to branch in different directions. It’s a recurring investment in our friendship that I always enjoy … except for that one time when I almost called it quits.

We were just finishing up one of our monthly visits, lingering over empty glasses and stacks of plates, waiting on the check. While we were talking, I casually mentioned that I liked a particular candidate who happened to be running in the presidential primary at that time. The group response came fast and furious. Heads began spinning, fingers started wagging and accusations flew all over the place. Or at least that’s the way I remember it. What I do clearly recall is leaving the restaurant feeling side-swiped, bewildered and hurt.

Normally, I am all for honest communication and consider it an honor when people are vulnerable enough to share their opinions with me, especially if they differ from my own. But that conversation left me feeling a little bruised and battered. Maybe it was because I was outnumbered four to one. Or perhaps I was more sensitive than usual that night. Whatever the reason, the check eventually showed up and our disagreement, thankfully, came to a close. We parted ways with polite hugs and promises to see each other the following month, but as soon as I got back to my car, I admit I had a little cry.

Our friendship managed to survive that table-side dispute. It also survived that year’s election … plus another one four years later. To be sure, we still don’t see eye to eye on certain topics, but the commitment to our friendship remains intact. So, too, does our commitment to our happy hours. In fact, this year, we are taking our happy hour on the road to California’s Wine Country.

It’s a symbolic backdrop, to be sure. In a vineyard, struggle is actually beneficial; at least when it comes to growing tasty grapes. Less than ideal conditions like temperature swings and insufficient water are what help produce a high-quality grape, which in turn, creates a wine full of depth, complexity and nuance. If you want easy, better stick to grape juice. But to achieve a master-crafted glass of wine, it seems a certain level of stress is the magic ingredient.

So too, I suspect, for friendship. I have survived relational tussles at one time or another with many of my favorite people. In fact, as part of a recent workshop, I was asked to make a list of friends that I disagree with.

When I finished brainstorming, I was devastated that my list was so long. How is it that I’ve butted heads with so many people? Am I that quarrelsome? At the end of the exercise, though, I was buoyed. My long list didn’t mean I had bad relationships. Quite the opposite, according to the facilitator. He suggested that a lengthy list represented a healthy, wide variety of friends, not limited to those who are like-minded. That would be a little too easy.

For that aforementioned group of friends, our happy hour struggle ultimately became another shared memory in our long history. We laugh about it now. Which is a good thing, because another election season is upon us. In preparation, I will fortify myself. Not to prove them wrong or push an agenda, but to remind myself that when rooted in curiosity and humility, discourse can grow some pretty terrific results in the long run.

So here’s to happy hours with friends. And the conversations that just might position us for a very good year.