Old Friend,
I don’t recall our first meeting nor the circumstances; our bond was established quickly. You became a part of my family and I with yours. I read now that you have completed this life. My memories of the times we shared are vivid in my conscience, as we came of age with our group and classmates. The double dates to hear the big bands at Coney Island (Cincinnati) and Lasordsville (Middletown). Each with our sweethearts, danced to sounds of Dorsey, Miller, James, Beinecke, Marteri, and The Dukes of Dixieland. The band trips to neighboring schools for football games. Remember one Thanksgiving we did three feasts: first at your house, then at mine, and finally we walked the three miles to Carolyn’s on Stilwell-Becket Rd. We played nickel, dime, quarter poker games at Jumbo’s and met up at Mike’s house to watch and discuss 60 Minutes. Remember the night we enjoyed shrimp cocktail and Miller’s High Life, at the Golden Key; to listen to smooth sounds of our older friend’s six-piece combo. We made so many memories in those beautiful days. The memories march through my mind, so numerous to become numbing to an outsider; but, God—so rich and fulfilling they are to me now. Grief is a slog that calls us to walk forward, as we must ultimately accept that we can’t live forever, of course. The pain, the tears, the hurt must saturate our body and ultimately, we are left with the golden glow of our shared experience. We miss you, old friend and this is a difficult time I know for your widow, Pam, and all who were blessed to know you. Farewell for a while, for all of us.
Grover