Just returned from dinner with one of my oldest and dearest friends. He and I met when I first moved to NYC. It was 1988. I was 24 years old. Fresh off the "boat" from Indianapolis. We met while auditioning for the famous Amateur Night At The Apollo Theater in Harlem. We both performed scenes from plays. His was a scene with a chick. I was solo. And I had written my piece. Anyway, we hit it off and the rest is history. I moved to L.A. in 2000. Talked him into comin' out here five years later. Now, he says he'd never go back to NYC to live. Of course, I know "never" has an uncanny way of turning into "not likely, but it can happen." He lives less than five minutes away from my apartment. Interesting how we've kept close some twenty-two years after our initial introduction. Over and over again, I fantasize about what I'll say to an interviewer who questions me about how long it's taken me to be the man I've become. What I always come up with is: "It has taken me almost twenty-four years to get from Indianapolis, Indiana to this chair/podium, etc." Indeed, I do truly believe I will live the life I've always dreamed about. The life I deserve. I see clearly now that I can be the philanthropist I've always wanted to be without ever giving away a cent. Giving my time, knowledge and love is enough. Gee, I really enjoyed dinner tonight with my friend. One of my oldest and dearest friends, I mean.
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