I lost a great, close friend last night — a brother from another mother. His name, like mine, was Jay. He was exactly one week older than I was. We each had two daughters, a matched set age wise, and today our daughters are as close as sisters.
Jay was the extrovert, I was the introvert; he was conservative, I was liberal. But in most of the ways that matter, we were a lot alike.
Of course, Jay would tell you that he was the taller one, the good-looking one, the smart one and the funny one. Ordinarily I would give him two of those, but tonight I’ll concede all four. (And yes, Jay, you now know that you have died and gone to heaven, because only in heaven would I let you have the last word like this.)
We also shared a similar taste in music. As often as our wives would let us — and on occasion more often than that — we’d hang out in the blues clubs and jazz clubs, trying not to get in too much trouble.
This was one of his favorite songs (and please forgive the occasional vulgarity).
– Jay Bookman