Today is Thursday, September 25, 2025. I was going to write about the ongoing train wreak known as Donald J. Dump who, just two days ago, delivered the stupidest, most insulting speech to world leaders at the United Nations General Assembly which is still being assessed for its insane, incoherent substance, but something personal in my life has been acutely felt, and that is the death of a friend on the occasion of Rosh Hashanah this past Monday. Today was the funeral service on West 91st Street and Amsterdam Avenue.

I received the terrible news from his husband, “Jeff,” just around 4:40 p.m. while Elliot and I were having a holiday dinner at our friend’s house on Monday. Something told me to answer the call and not let it go to voicemail since “Larry” had been suffering from an aggressive case of leukemia for over two years, I believe, and he was definitely not doing well this past week or so. My suspicions were confirmed when Jeff announced that Larry had just died and that he was going to text me the information concerning the service, which couldn’t be the next day because of the holiday on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Thus I went out today at 8 a.m. to get to the West Side to attend the last rites for Larry. The chapel was overflowing with mourners, many of them friends and relatives, and even coworkers of Larry over the years. Larry served with distinction, first, as a teacher in Brooklyn, then ascended the pedagogical ladder at one elementary school by becoming an assistant principal and then ending up as principal of the school. He began his teaching career at almost the same time as Elliot did – in 1967. Elliot began his career of teaching over three decades in 1968.

After retiring in the early 2000s, Larry found his true passion: first volunteering for the CSA – the Council of School Supervisors and Administrators, and then becoming a unit chapter head. Those who spoke at the service recounted how dedicated he was to those he came into contact with at the council and how heconsidered everyone an equal. Speaker after speaker recounted how informative he was about union regulatory rules and would share that information unhesitatingly with others.

Larry received accolades from everyone who spoke. He was primarily described as a generous, kind, gentle, soul who had a complimentary word about everyone. This I can attest to in my association with him over the years. I met him through his soon-to-be husband Jeff who Elliot and I first got to know at the gay/bi dads group at the LGBTQ+ center on 13th Street.

Jeff offered the first eulogy which was spoken in a half-whisper about his loving husband and how he was forever altered for the better through knowing Larry. At one point, he mentioned that Larry told him – on his deathbed, literally – to give up petty grudges, which, I hadn’t known at the time, was actually addressed to Elliot and me. You see, our friendship with both Larry and Jeff was frayed after 2021 resulting from a misunderstanding between Elliot and Jeff. Because of the seemingly petty nature of the grievance, I won’t even mention it here. Thus for close to four years, Elliot was persona non grata in Jeff’s mind. I recently decided to renew the connection between Larry and Jeff when I heard from a mutual friend, “Gene,” that Larry was seriously ill.

Therefore, when I would see the pair generally in Midtown near where they lived, Elliot would stay behind. I never felt good about this, but I went along with this arrangement to not ruffle any feathers, even though I instinctively believed it was wrong.

Today the situation was put into stark perspective with Larry’s untimely death – he was 79 and would celebrate his birthday on the same date as I, which is November 8, but he was 10 years older than I – when I stood in a line of bereavers to hug Jeff in the hallway and he started to say through tears, “Did you hear what I said up there – about giving up grudges?” I said I did, and said something so cliched, like “Life is short!” But it’s the damn truth! I hugged him as he tearfully said he would get in touch with both of us when things settle down. That’s all I needed to hear.

How many of us know about situations when family members don’t talk to one another over some conflict or misunderstanding that occurred over decades ago? How many of us know people who never had the chance to repair broken relationships with sisters, brothers, aunts, cousins, or friends? I would say that number is quite large. So all I can say is life is unpredictable and, if you have the chance to repair a strained relationship with someone you once held very dear, now is the time to do it before it’s too damn late. I’m sure Jeff became cognizant of this very life lesson as his husband’s life was ebbing away.

So if any of you see yourself as being described in the above-mentioned paragraph, you know what to do. Go out and mend those fences – if you can. Time is of the essence.

And so it went!