Technically, Arlington Heights, Illinois.

It’s been a little while since I’ve been here, and I’ve got some catching-up to do, so I’ll make an exception and get a little personal. This man was my stepbrother and best friend ever. He died almost exactly a year ago from ALS at age 65. Here, he’s one week away from turning 32.

I was his best man. There was no way to arrange anything like a bachelor party in advance, given that everyone who might participate lived somewhere far away. So, I organized it, with a telephone (remember, 1990), to go down after the rehearsal dinner. With most of the men involved sharing a hotel floor, we staged a mini-golf tournament. The hallways were fairways, the rooms were the greens. Participating rooms were named after iconic golf courses, and in them were served drinks associated with their place — Augusta? Mint julep (close enough). Shinnecock? Long Island Iced Tea. Merion? Fuck them. Shot and beer. Et cetera. There were about 12 holes (rooms). Putters were provided by a local.

This went on for hours until the hotel security paid us a visit. (Actually, it might have been the real police.) Hey, the badge said, we get it. How about we take this party down to one of the hotel’s empty banquet rooms and let you see this out without further disruption?

Sold. The few of us still standing gathered up the booze and drugs and took an elevator.

So, what you see is a man who is up, preparing to get married, about an hour and a half after we had closed our eyes.

The irony, as, I guess, was also true of Lou Gehrig, whose name became the face of the disease, was that his athleticism and mastery of his sinews was as impressive as his heart and intellect. He was a star soccer player in high school, could throw a dime on the football field, drain a 20-foot jump shot with ease, and I never once beat him in ping-pong.

After his wedding, he helped raise a boy and a girl, worked at his job and became a pillar of his community. At least, according to his obituary. I don’t really know, because we fell out in 1992 and I scarcely heard from him again.

(Sept. 2, 1990)