Don and I were alphabetically linked in Mrs. Grillo's home room our freshman year at PHS. He was the class stud, athletically speaking, and I was the Catholic school kid in his first year of public school. After wearing parochial school uniforms for eight years, and buying my own clothes, my wardrobe tended towards the wild side (black shirt, black pants, black shoes, white socks). I bought my own clothes because nobody else was able to take me shopping, so style was not my strong suit. Don clued me in that the clothes you wore had unintended consequences. It took me awhile to overcome first impressions.
I was a strong student from the outset, especially in Latin, and Don took advantage of that. Eventually, we bonded over sports, football for both of us, baseball for me, track for him, and music ,for him, bad guitar, for me, bad drums, which I borrowed from Bruce Lipton and, of course, women. His car was always available to me for double dates, since I couldn't afford to get a drivers license, much less own a car. By the time senior year rolled around, he and Jack Schenendorf were my best friends. We made names for ourselves in various ways and then went our separate ways. I saw him from time to time, and it was like we never had been away.
I reconnected, solidly, with him a few years before he died, and did my best to try to help him move toward a healthy lifestyle. Too little, too late. He visited me in California for weeks at a time and I visited him in Connecticuit. He promised me he would get healthy. I tried to get him to move to CA where I could help him on a daily basis, but it was not to be.
His son called me the day after he passed away. I was sitting at my desk, working as a CMO for a large publically traded healthcare organization, when I got the call. I wasn't worth much for the rest of that day.
I am not yet over his passing, some 7 years later, wishing I could have done more for my best friend.
Dr. William Bracciodieta
Don and I were alphabetically linked in Mrs. Grillo's home room our freshman year at PHS. He was the class stud, athletically speaking, and I was the Catholic school kid in his first year of public school. After wearing parochial school uniforms for eight years, and buying my own clothes, my wardrobe tended towards the wild side (black shirt, black pants, black shoes, white socks). I bought my own clothes because nobody else was able to take me shopping, so style was not my strong suit. Don clued me in that the clothes you wore had unintended consequences. It took me awhile to overcome first impressions.
I was a strong student from the outset, especially in Latin, and Don took advantage of that. Eventually, we bonded over sports, football for both of us, baseball for me, track for him, and music ,for him, bad guitar, for me, bad drums, which I borrowed from Bruce Lipton and, of course, women. His car was always available to me for double dates, since I couldn't afford to get a drivers license, much less own a car. By the time senior year rolled around, he and Jack Schenendorf were my best friends. We made names for ourselves in various ways and then went our separate ways. I saw him from time to time, and it was like we never had been away.
I reconnected, solidly, with him a few years before he died, and did my best to try to help him move toward a healthy lifestyle. Too little, too late. He visited me in California for weeks at a time and I visited him in Connecticuit. He promised me he would get healthy. I tried to get him to move to CA where I could help him on a daily basis, but it was not to be.
His son called me the day after he passed away. I was sitting at my desk, working as a CMO for a large publically traded healthcare organization, when I got the call. I wasn't worth much for the rest of that day.
I am not yet over his passing, some 7 years later, wishing I could have done more for my best friend.