The phone call I had dreaded for almost ten years occurred yesterday. One of my peers passed away this last Saturday evening. I was saddened by this loss on so many levels. I’m 77, and my friend is only six years older than me; not a great span of age differences. What is dissimilar is he was the first friend to die since I was a very young man. I spent the rest of the evening mentally cataloging the different levels of our twenty-plus years of friendship. “We had shared many things we had in common. Leo was a gourmand and an aficionado of fine wines. We for a brief time lived in the same neighborhood, and we created a pathway along the back of the houses where we traded tastes of wine or a new recipe. My friend had a wicked sense of humor; my favorite of his barbs was “if it had four legs it was meat. Two-legged animals were vegetables. The overarching legacy to our friendship was laughter and not worrying about our bodies, and mind may be one-day betrays our lifestyles. If I had to enumerate the funniest moment in our friendship, I’d be hard pressed, because, on our first overseas trip together, Joyce (his beloved wife) and I traipsed across Spain for ten days of nonstop laughter, great meals and wines. We were three seniors acting like twenty-year-old kids, which were this trio. That trip I suppose had one of the funniest moments wasn’t either him or me instigated but Joyce, who in the opinion of many as the consummate lady, gracious, genteel (not a sissy) and rarely swore, unlike the two reprobates who tended to use colorful language often. When Leo or I swore, she just shook her head as if to convey I’m with two boors. It was her time to drive; she was also the chief navigator. She turned down a street and said loudly “what the f**ck I turned at the wrong spot.” As soon as the word was uttered Leo, and I instantaneously shook our heads and then we all laughed. I’m sure this wouldn’t mean much to anyone reading this, and that is okay. This writing isn’t for you rather for Joyce her children and me to codify my admiration and love for this man. Leo was an Armenian man who shared with me a Jew about the legacies, he, and I shared; GENOCIDE. I was hoping to surprise him and show up at their doorstep and fulfill a promise that he and I would go and see the movie coming out on the 21st of this month entitled “The promise” that deals with the holocaust of Armenians at the beginning of the last century. I’ll go see it alone. He and I had fundamental differences regarding politics, but that never stopped us from being good friends. We were more complex than allow our friendship be ruined by differences politically. My dear friend Leo, you left us far too early, and I’ll miss you forever. Be at peace, be at peace Leo.