In which I remember a friend…
I worked with a man named Avrom, who had many interesting personality traits:
He was kind and generous. He was a gifted attorney, who held onto his strong sense of justice long after so many of his contemporaries had become jaded and bitter. He had a strong sense of history, as evidenced by the fact that he wrote this book. He loved folk music and we would often chat about that. He shared his love of Boston’s North Shore with me. He had an infectious laugh and an amazing spirit.
But my favorite thing about Avrom was that he thought he was a dog.
You’d say hello to him and he’d bark at you. I asked him once why he didn't have a dog, since he liked them so much. He said, “I don’t like dogs, I am a dog.”
Avrom passed away last week. He had cancer. He was only 59.
This morning I found this e-mail while I was going though a mail folder:
It’s a good thing that all dogs go to Heaven because that is where my friend Avrom belongs.