For a small corps of us weekend meant busting out and heading for a museum, the Cloisters, Central Park concerts, or just roaming the Village hunting out new eating spots, or getting some sun. Pretty much the only time we wanted to leave the Village - because of tourists.
My oldest and dearest friend, Ted. Met in 1964 at the World's Fair became roommates in college, enjoyed each other's company. Made each other laugh and knew more about one another than we ever cared to admit. Ultimately worked with Pan Am Airlines until they fell apart. This caused an emotional meltdown from which he never recovered. He died in a group home in 1990.
Friends Sandy (slightly out of frame) and Bob taking a walk and getting some Spring sun on the Morton Street Pier following a Sunday Brunch at the Ramrod on West Street. The place where I had my first Rum Bloody - Bloody Mary made with dark rum instead of tasteless, cheap vodka. Great food, great friends with bikes, skates, and pretty people on the pier. Both are gone. Deaths are too gruesome to relate here.
These guys and those fun times are sorely missed, but remembered with great fondness.
An so it goes.