Surprisingly, I haven’t classified anyone specifically as a best friend since I was a kid in Queens. Does that make me somehow a bit offbeat? If it does then it’s only one of my very many eccentric qualities. I left Jackson Heights in September of 1971. Up until then Earl and I had always been the best of friends. His parents were both from Puerto Rico and he’s lived there for most of his lifetime. He and I haven’t met in person since our early teens when I went back to 92nd Street a few times to visit. It’s not that I haven’t had any friends whatsoever since then. It’s just that, with the possible exception of Jimmy in my very early days in Lindenhurst, there hasn’t been any specific individual who’s been designated to play Lenny to my Squiggy. Jimmy soon moved to Arizona and eventually ended up in California. Earl and Jimmy are now on my Facebook friend list, so maybe they can take turns as my honorary Lenny. I’ve always enjoyed keeping in touch with a few favorite cousins of mine from Long Island and western New York. We’ve always hung around together ever since we were little kids. Maybe they can count, sort of, as best friends-ish of mine. We’ve always gotten along reasonably well and have lots of inside jokes and shared experiences so it’s kind of like the same thing. Being the best of friends with the recent version of me seems to be entirely too big a responsibility for any one individual.