Hey, you gotta have friends. My close friends are the best, the nicest human beings. They’re funny, or at least have a good sense of humor. There isn’t a nasty person in the lot. I’m lucky to know them.
This is dangerous because I’ll probably leave somebody I really like out, but here goes. My three sisters—Mary Ellen, Terry, Carole—are precious to me. They have my back, and I have theirs. Always. No matter what. Until death or whatever. The same goes for their very cool kids, Brigid, Meredith, and Andrew. Bob Hatfield, Mick Fescoe, Mike Smith, and Tom Hefferon are old friends from our Newburgh days. Hatfield once paid me a great backhanded compliment. He said, “You’re still the same asshole you always were.” Meaning, I hope, that I haven’t changed too much because of…whatever the hell happened to me after I left the Hudson Valley. Frank Nicolo, Mike Hart, Merrill Snyder, Hal Friedman, Peter de Jonge, Linda Kaplan, and Richard DiLallo all somehow survived the blazing fires of advertising hell. Ned Mahoney, Tom McGoey, Jim Dowd, Mike Guadagno, and B. J. Stringer made it with me through the inquisitions of Catholic college. They’re all pretty nice grown-ups. Marie Pugatch was a head nurse at McLean Hospital, but she could easily have been a patient. (Just kidding.) Jeanne Galleta was the sweetest high-school crush anyone could ever have—and Jeanne is the model for Rafe Khatchadorian’s middle-school girlfriend in the book and movie. Kathy McMahon was a third-degree black belt and my close confidante and dear friend during our time at J. Walter. Lynda Cole was my bud at Vanderbilt and is still a wonderful cross-country pal (even though she sold out and became a lawyer). Nick Zeppos is my other treasured BF from Vanderbilt. Tony Peyser has been charged with keeping our family solvent, which he’s accomplished brilliantly and patiently. (I live in a really nice house.) Tony is family. Susan Sandon and Dame Gail Rebuck are my favorite people in all of England, probably in all of Europe. Jim Karp is my favorite person from Louisville other than Muhammad Ali and, oh yeah, Jim’s beautiful wife, Irene. John Abate is my golf partner and go-to person about all things sports, especially the Yankees. The same goes for Craig Jackson, except for the part about the Yankees. Then there’s Art Marshall, Jack’s faithful godfather, and Terry Marshall, Art’s faithful wife. Ned Rust is my partner in crime writing and bureaucracy-bending. Ned’s the one who actually got this book started, who kept shamelessly pimping me to write it. Go, Ned! Michael Pietsch is the best editor I’ve ever had. Denise Roy is coming on strong. The great Mario Pulice, totally fabulous art director. Bob Barnett, my lawyer and a great friend, which almost doesn’t seem possible. Lawyer and friend? Deneen Howell—oh God, another lawyer friend, but more important, the brains behind Mr. Barnett. Dennis Abboud is that rare CEO who is smart as hell, fair, and refreshingly down-to-earth. Bill Robinson’s a real sweetheart, and very smart, who puts up with me on an almost daily basis. Of course, I put up with Mr. Bill too. Tim Malloy, journalist par excellence, my partner on Kid Stew and the Jeffrey Epstein book and documentary. And Tim’s smart, funny, gorgeous bride, Susan. Frank Costantini and Brian Sitts, the really Big Brains behind Kid Stew. The great, very talented Tina Flournoy, “president-herder.” Lois Cahall, close friend to nearly everyone in the free world, thankfully including me. Okay, who did I forget? Oh yeah, Mike Lupica is growing on me. Nice man, lots of good stories, fine writer—for a Boston College grad. Is that a two-year school?
What about my other cowriters? Hey, they already got their own chapter.
For one of my big birthdays, I invited a dozen close friends plus some family to keep me company and sing the birthday song really loud. We celebrated in a small room above the kitchen of our favorite Italian restaurant, La Sirena in West Palm Beach. Sue, Jack, Mary Ellen, Carole, Terry, and others showed up. There was only one rule: Absolutely no presents for the birthday boy. But when my friends and family got there, I gave each of them a present. And these were really good presents.
Then I stood at the head of the table and told them why they were each special to me, in particular my three darling sisters, my beautiful bride, and our handsome son. It was a nice evening for me and I think for everybody else in the room.
Hey, you ought to enjoy your own birthday party, right? With some family, some friends, and some tasty Brunello.