Rant #1,469: You CAN Go Back, Sort Of ...

After a grueling week at work, I decided to do something a little different to finish up my workweek.

I left work early on Friday, and met up with some old friends in Manhattan.

This had been planned for several months, and five of us--one had to cancel--met, talked over old times, and also talked about current times, over dinner.

In May, one of our brethren passed away. Nobody knew that Ron was sick, but he died of pancreatic cancer. None of us knew about this tragedy, but through Facebook, we found out much more.

His brother, David, had passed away three weeks before Ron did, under somewhat, well let's say, somewhat odd circumstances. This is after their mom left us about two years ago. And from what I have heard, their dad is in somewhat tenuous health.

Personally, I last saw Ron about 10 years ago or so, and he looked well, happy and very satisfied with life. I was very pleased. I spoke with him a few times on the phone and on Facebook here and there, but we weren't close at all,  just sharing the unique bond that we had from our old neighborhood.

Anyway, I spread the word about Ron's death, and provided details as I found out about them, via Ron's cousin.

As I spread the word, a small group of us decided that it was time to get together again. We aren't getting any younger, and I think this tragedy made the decision to do this pretty easy.

Some of the group I had seen sporadically over the years, while others, I hadn't seen in more than 40 years.

So on Friday, five of the original kids from Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, got together, and we had a blast. I tried to take a photo of the old place from the Long Island Railroad train I was on to get into Manhattan, but what you see is the best I could do.

Rochdale is in the distance, but the photo doesn't do any justice to the place at all.

Just to reiterate, it is hard to put into words the neighborhood that we grew up in.

It was suburban living in a very urban setting, sort of an urban Mayberry, smack dab in the middle of one of the most historic ethnic neighborhoods in New York City.

We grew up there when everything was new in the community--we literally saw buildings rising from the ground--and we lived there during the 1960s and early 1970s. That in itself made the place so special.

There were thousands of families that lived in the neighborhood's 20 buildings, which meant that there were thousands and thousands of kids, baby boomers like myself, and if you knew one kid well, you probably knew 30 or 40 or 50 or even 100 more.

The place went through a turbulent period, most of us moved to other places, but Rochdale Village stands in our hearts and minds as the place where we grew up.

Words can't really describe the place adequately, but I just did the best I could.

So five of us met on Friday night to go over old times--myself, Howie, Andy, Stewie, and Brian. Not only does Brian's mom still live there, but he recently moved back to the old homestead himself.

Anyway, we talked and talked and talked about Rochdale while we ate dinner at Walt Frazier's Wine and Dine Restaurant, in Hell's Kitchen. It has become my favorite Manhattan restaurant, because both the food and the prices are good.

And what better place to celebrate our time in Rochdale than at the restaurant named after one of our sports idols during the late 1960s and early 1970s?

And there is even more of a connection, because one of Frazier's girlfriends at the time lived in Rochdale!

Anyway, we talked about the bad and the good, the past and the current, and also, the future.

A wonderful time was had by all. and we vowed to do it all again in a couple of months.

After a few hours, we each departed for our residences--on Long Island, in Queens, in New Jersey, and as I said, yes, back in Rochdale--and that was that, for now.

And yes, we raised a glass to Ron, whose passing actually brought us closer together.

Not to be maudlin about the whole thing, but I do feel he was there too, looking down on us, and smiling.

Here's one for you, Ron.