Fitz (the man in the do-rag and Yankee cap) and my son grew up together almost 30 years ago. Some kids would pick on my son in grammar school and try to beat him up as a white kid but John would go brawl while Fitz came to his aid. They have been buddies for a long time. Fitz is always welcome at my home.
Fitz didn't want his face posted on the board but he and John are having cocktails on the veranda this evening. One guy is black, the other is white. One guy bleeds for the Yankees while the other is ready to go nuts for the Mets. Both men love one another and I understand that as an old Marine and kid off the streets of Brooklyn - neither race or nationality or ethnicity or where you're from can screw up a friendship once it is established. I once knew a Marine rifleman from a farm in Georgia farm and a New Hampshire prep-school boy that were inseparable.
Hey, I was a dog guy for more than 60 years. Things go strange and different from what we figure we should be as the years go on.
