My father, my younger brother, John “Funky” Friedman, sitting at the stone picnic table in our backyard in Cleveland Heights on the afternoon of my graduating from Hawken School, in 1972.
“Funky” Friedman, Mark Hoerr, “Hoon,” “Amazing Dynamo Man” (Jamie Cohen) –likewise on that same day but earlier.
Whatever happened to John Friedman? (I ask myself.) He was with us at Hawken through junior year. His changing school did not alter our closeness or social pattern. I spent a lot of time gently opening the doors of perception while in the passenger seat of his red Toyota Corolla. At the time his collection of 8 track cartridges was second-to-none. His parents gave me my first and last martini. His brother Stephen was driving the first and only time I ever was in a car accelerated to over 100 mph, (on the way to the airport.)
And then, in the fall of 1972 he went away to college while I stayed in Cleveland. I don’t believe I ever saw him again. I heard he became a choreographer.