My Friend

I've waited to write this to give me time to regain my bearings.  Early December was the most emotionally up and down period of my life.  On the evening of December 2 our first grandchild was born (the little dude is doing just fine - definitely best baby ever).  The next morning our daughter joked that with his curly hair and big round face he looked just like my best friend.  The following day my best friend of 50 years suddenly died and I flew back East to be with his family.

Larry (or Chunky as I knew him) Church was best man at our wedding (his only words of advice before the ceremony, "don't lock your knees") and the guy I did all the ballpark tours with (in 2019, having run out of ballparks, we did WW2 museums) and our last conversation over Thanksgiving was to plan our 2020 trip (Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody, Wyoming, the Little Bighorn Battlefield and then Mt Rushmore and Crazy Horse monuments).

I still remember my first encounter with him in February 1968 and so much more over the ensuing decades.  Driving cross country in 1972 with our late friend Rags; listening to a lot of loud music throughout, celebrating births of children and significant events in our lives; rooming with his dad for almost a year in 1999-2000 in the old Church family home when I was starting a new job in CT; during our years back in CT a zillion holiday dinners and meals out (many at Savin Roasters in Milford) with Barb, Chunk and his wife Beth (whom I've known since we were both 8 years old).  Endless discussions of history, rock n roll, and, of course, baseball, attending the Red Sox victory parade in 2004, and being in Fenway in 2013 when the Sox won the World Series.  And so much more.

All this amid a continuing torrent of talk and stories from Chunk (though as the years went by I learned to hold my own - at least I told myself that).  At the funeral service his brother Randy eulogized him as "the Babe Ruth of talk and conversation", a perfect description.  Did I mention the endless puns, both good and bad, usually accompanied by an extraordinarily long build up?

He delighted in being confounding and a contrarian, but always with a smile.  I am certain he would have enjoyed the funeral service at the Congregational Church presided over by both a Pastor and a Rabbi (with several other rabbis in the audience), a service filled both with laughter and tears, and kicked off with a rendition of It Ain't Necessarily So, which he once sang solo in the church (after asking the pastor's permission - if you don't know why, google the lyrics), but then he left us a lot of material to work with. 

How he touched people during his life was demonstrated by the turnout for his service; a church filled to overflowing.  I'm a fan of Michael Connelly's novels featuring LAPD detective Harry Bosch.  Bosch has a mantra, "Everybody counts, or nobody counts".  It was the same for Chunk in both his personal life and career as a lawyer.  When you were with him, you had his full attention, he listened, he took you seriously, and you could count on him (except to be on time!).  And always with cordiality and courtesy.

As my friend Mark Gerhard said, "Love is everywhere and Chunky spread it like sunshine".  (Mark's 94 year old mother wrote a lovely tribute published in the local paper)

For me, I find myself reading or watching something and, as happened so frequently for so long, thinking, "I need to tell Chunk about that."  I miss my friend.

Us in 1974

 At our daughter's wedding reception (2018)

 Dodger Stadium (2014)

 Quintessential Chunky

 Cover of our debut album (1972): Chunk on far left, Rags third from left, me third from right.

 Attorney Church in his summer attire