Old Friends
The letter came out of the blue, hand-addressed and quaintly snail-mailed. “An invitation,” it began.It was from a childhood friend of my father’s named Howie. He and his wife, Joyce, were hosting a dinner party for two longtime friends and their wives. “By any chance, are you and your wife free that evening?”They must be ancient by now, I thought. Howie, Norm and Lee grew up with my father, running through the alleys around 16th and State. They were Depression kids and some were war vets, instilled with survival skills that steeled them for the toughest times of the century.…
