Friday, August 12, 2005
Today I learned of Steve's death. I am taking a few moments here, sitting in Wurzburg, Germany, to think about Steve. The childhood basketball games in Mark Walter's driveway with Mark, Jimmy Baglin and Steve come to mind. When friends from our childhood die, a bit of our own childhood dies with them. From our enclave in Plainfield, the world took us different places. Steve went to Rutgers Prep and Colorado. I went to Wardlaw and North Carolina, then to Europe. I'll never forget the rivalry between Rutger's Prep and Wardlaw, the "trash talking" that went on back then, and the mutual respect that we had. Although we lost track of each other over the years, when I thought of Steve, it was with a smile. I still can see his featherlike lefty jump shot getting "nothing but net", still can see that boylike grin of his, and still remember when his voice changed! Steve, if you can read this, save me a seat in Madison Square Garden up there. Some day I'd like to take in a game up there with you.
Your friend,
John Schwartz</b></font><br><br>
