B.F.F.
I do not text message!
I have no iPod!
I haven’t yet figured out Facebook or Craig’s List!
But recently on one of my e-mails, the letters B.F.F. came across to me. When I made inquiries to one of my children and I discovered the actual meaning, the code was broken. B.F.F. was short for “Best Friend Forever.” What a lovely sentiment!
I thought for a second, “Who is my Best Friend Forever?” No contest, it was my old Bronx buddy, Bernie Taub. We lived on either side of 174th street, he on Vyse Ave. and me on Bryant Ave.
We met at P.S. 50 in kindergarten. That was approximately 70 years ago. We attended Herman Ridder Junior High School and James Monroe High School together. In 1951 we matriculated at CCNY, he as an engineering student and myself as a pre-dental student. In 1955 when we both graduated, I drove him to his first job interview in Long Island City.
I recall him coming running back to my car, a 1953 Oldsmobile, shouting “I got the job. They are going to pay me $90 a week.” Today, he is earning many times that figure, and we are still pals.
Along the way we both married, I to Lorraine from Maryland and he to Harriet from Crotona Park East. I was his best man at his wedding and he was my best man a few years later.
I moved to Westbury, and he moved to Rockland County. We always manage to get together, at least once a month.
Through the years we have developed many other good friends, but there is a special bond and a deep understanding and acceptance of each other. I am quixotic and Bernie is calm and reasoning. It makes for a balanced and exceptional friendship.
After 70 years, I think we qualify as B.F.F. We are, have been, and I hope will always remain “Best Friends Forever.”
