"Like Sand Through The Hour Glass, So Are The Days Of Our Lives!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                          Not to worry; I am not going all MacDonald Carey on you, or even soap opera-ish.  Rather, I want to wax philosophical for a moment, with an exploration into my past.

                            During my formative years, from birth into my twenties, my parents were very close friends with a couple known as Edna And Jimmy.  They lived in South Plainfield, NJ; I can still picture their house, inside and out.  Their youngest child, a son, Marc (a c," not a "k" one!!!!!!!) and I were born three weeks apart--I was older--meaning our mothers were virtually pregnant at the same time.
\
                              They were also nurses, having been in the same nursing class, and worked at the same hospital, Muhlenberg, in Plainfield,  when it existed.  Marc and I were both born there, and grew up together.  We were very different, but we got along.  Marc had a fantastic vinyl collection, as did I; where I collected Broadway shows, he had every album made by The Beatles and The Beach Boys.  I can still see us sitting in his room, listening to that music.

                              But time took its toll.  My mother passed, in 1979, I moved to New York in 1983, and so I lost touch with Marc. The last time I saw him was at his mother' s funeral, in 1989, virtually a decade since my mother's death. Aunt Edna was like a second mother to me, so her death was wrenching also.

                                To this day, whenever the Fourth Of July, and New Years Eve roll around, I think of these people, because this is where my parents and I would go, each year. And some of me misses that.

                                   I have been thinking about Marc a lot lately, in the wake of the passing of my friend, David L. Riley.  I was told, when I was young, that people would drift in and out of my life, but I never gave it much thought, when young, but  do now.  As I come to terms with David's passing, I began to think about Marc--is he still alive? How is he? What is he doing?

                                   So, I set out to to do some research.  What I discovered was I think the person known as my childhood friend is now living in Windsor, CT.  Which is where his eldest sister, Gayle, lives, with her husband and family.  I wonder about the transition of Marc from Plainfied/South Plainfield to there. The last I was aware of him, he was living in the area--a brother, James Jr,, was nearby in Woodbridge--and working as a night watchman at one of the industrial factory places in the area.

                                     I think of Marc with nostalgia and concern. He was different in so many ways, and did not get the help he needed, as it was not available. Marc, as a kid, was what today might be termed "Special Needs," and when we grew up, there was no place for that, outside of a mental institution. And Marc was functional; he was just not on the college path.  But he also had health and weight issues, when young, which makes me wonder how he is doing now.

                                       So, I am sending this out into the blogspehre. Marc, or anyone who knows  him, if you read this, and look at my picture, you will, I think, know exactly who I am.  As time stretches out to where we are at a point I never thought to be, when young, I would like to know, Marc, how you are doing.

                                         And know that I miss you, your folks and those Fourth Of July's  SO much!!!!!!!!!!!