One of the most iconic paintings from the 1940s is Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks”. Hopper’s realism is front and center as he depicts four people in a downtown diner, in the late-evening or wee hours. There are three patrons and the owner or manager, all easily visible from across the street through the large window. Over the years people have wondered about these four. There is the couple. Are they a couple? Another man sits further down the counter. Business suits and a reddish-orange dress are obvious but we can’t be certain of their personal economics. Although Hopper painted this in 1942, during the early days of World War II, the country was still connected to the Great Depression, and the light coming from the diner illuminating the adjacent urban street provides more mystery than clarity. I've long felt that the "Nigthawks" neighborhood could be in Chicago, or New York, or Philadelphia, or Cleveland or Milwaukee. Hopper may have been striving for a universal motif for the painting although I’m reminded of the area around New York University, not surprisingly since Hopper’s studio was in lower Manhattan near Washington Square.

Growing up in Milwaukee we had a local chain of restaurants known as George Webb’s, and each location was, in many respects a diner, although cleaner and with much better lighting than Hopper’s “Nighthawks”. Webbs made great hamburgers in the old-fashioned diner-style even while facing the early 1960s onslaught of the burgeoning national fast-food drive-ins. Many a late evening wasn’t complete without a stop at Webbs before calling it a night, and my friend Dean and I sometimes made the stop together. The restaurants, in an unusual decorative decision, always had two clocks on the wall, side by side. Beyond the decorative value I assume the clocks were there to remind you of the hour in case you had somewhere else to be.

Dean Kadlec died on June 26. He and I started a 3-piece rock ’n’ roll band—The Nightrays—in 1961 with our drummer friend Tom Aulinger. The band lasted a few years and was an enjoyable diversion for three budding musicians. We also picked up a few bucks in spending money and discovered that, on occasion, teenage girls were attracted to rock ’n’ roll types. Duh. I graduated from high school a year earlier than Dean, but we stayed in touch while I continued to live in Milwaukee. After moving to Chicago in 1972, our conversations were less frequent but somehow an occasional conversation gave us time to catch up. When I got married he was there, and from time to time when I passed through the midwest we would see each other. My last conversation with him was in 2006. A move to California (from St. Paul, Minnesota) was imminent and I stopped in for a visit at Dean’s home in Milwaukee. After that we shared an occasional email but not much more.

Milwaukee was also home to a few Big Boy restaurants, franchised in Milwaukee by the Marcus family, dubbing them “Marc’s Big Boy”. It was a multi-generational hangout of sorts and many of us would go to Big Boy for a slightly noisier yet welcoming end of the day. Occasionally the evening would have some special significance.

On graduation night, 1966, my good friend Henry Michael Ogrodzinski and I were sitting at the Marc’s Big Boy restaurant on South Howell Avenue in Milwaukee. We had just graduated from Bay View High School and that evening we were sitting in a booth talking about the fact that next year we would both be doing something completely different. It was an unsurprising combination of happy and melancholy as college was the plan but on that evening neither of us were excited about going back to school.

Michael—in those days he preferred to use his middle name—was a tall good looking guy. At local dances (sometimes when my band was playing) he liked to shift into his “British musician” persona. He’d cock his head back and forth to the beat (like Mike Smith of the Dave Clark Five) and start talking to one of the girls with his faux “British” accent. He hoped the teenage girls would fall for his act and sometimes he succeeded. Michael was a great guy. After high school we both moved on as our lives took different tracks. Earlier this year, while going through boxes of photographs I found a picture of us from those days in Milwaukee. I took a moment and decided to look him up.

Henry Michael Ogrodzinski was one month younger than me when he died in 2014, leaving behind a loving family and many friends. My adult life has had me traveling all over the world, living and working in Chicago, Los Angeles and New York, to name three. I learned that Michael was a veteran of the US Army, and an honors graduate of the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee. "He was a longtime, dedicated aviation advocate and industry professional, serving wherever needed. His friends described Michael as “a mentor, friend and industry expert to so many in the aviation field. Henry’s love of life was apparent in everything he did.”

All of these memories were sparked by a conversation I had this week with another friend. David Wray is a musician and a lawyer, and we became friends in 2003 when he invited me to begin teaching (and chair the music business program) at McNally Smith college in St. Paul. Dave was one of the well-educated, thoughtful, and genuine members of the college faculty and administration, helping teach young music students how to achieve their goals. He worked tirelessly to transform this small, private (and for-profit) college into a respected school of music and music business. Dave left the school in 2005, and I left after the fall semester, December 2006. (The school closed in 2017). Relocating to Mendocino County allowed Dolly and I (and our daughter Caitie) to open a new chapter in our lives. My friendship with Dave continues.

In the October 2015 issue of The Atantic, writer Julie Beck penned an article titled “How Friendships Change in Adulthood—‘We need to catch up soon!’” It included this:

In the hierarchy of relationships, friendships are at the bottom. Romantic partners, parents, children—all these come first. . . . Friendships are unique relationships because unlike family relationships, we choose to enter into them. And unlike other voluntary bonds, such as marriages and romantic relationships, they lack a formal structure. You wouldn’t go months without speaking with or seeing your significant other (hopefully), but you might go that long without contacting a friend.

The voluntary nature of friendship makes it subject to life’s whims in a way that more formal relationships aren’t. In adulthood, as people grow up and go away, friendships are the relationships most likely to take a hit. You’re stuck with your family, and you’ll prioritize your spouse. But where once you could run over to Jonny’s house at a moment’s notice and see if he could come out to play, now you have to ask Jonny if he has a couple hours to get a drink in two weeks.

Throughout life, from grade school to the retirement home, friendship continues to confer health benefits, both mental and physical. But as life accelerates, people’s priorities and responsibilities shift, and friendships are affected, for better, or often, sadly, for worse.

Beck concludes her wonderful article with this: “Friendship is a relationship with no strings attached except the ones you choose to tie, one that’s just about being there, as best as you can.”

Over time we accept that life is a journey. We have a finite amount of time on this planet to manage everything, including our friendships and relationships, but we must recognize that we are attempting to do this in a world with numerous distractions. When we neglect our friends it’s almost never because we’ve decided we don’t like them anymore. For the past 25 years we have all increasingly lived in a world where our communication with friends and everyone else is first and foremost maintained in short bursts, fragments …. email, Twitter, Facebook, texting. Yet even with these (and many more) options, we can’t keep up because each platform has been commercialized and reconstructed as a spam delivery system. The result is simple: the internet takes up excess mental space, and friendship takes work. Which brings me to my recommendation.

Reach out to that friend, that acquaintance and rekindle the conversation. Throw a spark into the relationship. Whether it’s a phone call, a hand-written note or some short-hand form of e-communication, reach out. My experience is that they are feeling the same way and will welcome the effort. And do it soon.

Top left: "Nighthawks" by Edward Hopper; Lower left: Dean Kadlec (l) and me (r); Center: Henry Michael Ogrodzinski;. Above: Me (left) and David Wray