I didn't know Gary all that well, but what I did know, I liked a helluva lot. We played together on a touch football team for five years in the Yorkville Sports Association League. Trivial as that may sound, I often recall those Sunday afternoons on the fields of Grand Street or Central Park as some of the happiest times I've spent in New York.

Like the rest of us, Gary was just an overgrown kid, reluctant to say goodbye to a game he loved. Thinking back, it must have been funny to the casual observer to see the twelve members of "The Gunners" storm into our favorite post-game watering hole, uniforms caked with mud, to relive the glory of the past few hours. In our own inconsequential way, we were a force--a group of friends that, in the company of each other, felt acutely alive. That's how I'll remember Gary. As a tough, yet lighthearted part of a very special band of brothers. God Bless You, Gary.