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George and Larry, preparing dinner on the deck. This was a few weeks ago; getting dark earlier now.
George appears to be driving the Starship Enterprise but really he is breaking in his big fat new grill which works with propane and charcoal at the same time. Dude.
My brother Dennis was born when I was eight. He was a gorgeous baby and I remember asking Mom if I could have him. After all, I pointed out, she had two boys already -- Greg and Jeff -- and she could surely spare this little guy.
To her credit, Mom didn't dismiss my earnest argument with the guffaw it deserved. She graciously listened but gently said no, I couldn't have Denny. She suggested instead that I be a very responsible Big Sister and Junior Mother now that I was old enough to really help out. We'd share him, she said. Made sense to me. I called him my Bunny and enthusiastically rocked him and took him for walks and fed him and changed his diapers. He was so cute. He's still cute.
Still my Bunny, too.
Johnny Ramone would have been 60 today. He died in 2004. Tommy Ramone (the only surviving member of the original four) said of him, "He was born to be a rock star."
The Amazing Donald, who does my hair, regales me with tales of his wild youth during the late 70s when he (Zelig-like) went to CBGBs in the Bowery -- Ur gig for the Ramones (Blondie too). Donald had saved an original pin from there, a small reproduction of the first Ramones album cover, yellowed with age, which he gave to me. I treasure it. It lives on my bulletin board where I can see it easily every day:
Some people have a gift for grace and friendship, bred in the bone. Donald is like that.
