Diagnosis

 We've had phone conversations for over 60 years.  From the time we met at 9 years of age in a Little League dugout, Kenny was my friend.  After we ended up at the same Jr. High school, and later went to high school together, our friendship cemented.  It helped that we shared the same birthday.  Having a close friend with the same birthday can be hazardous because we often get caught up in our own birthday that we tend to forget, even temporarily that we have a friend that needs to be remembered too.

Over the years, Kenny and I shared a love for the same type of music, most notably Blues and Jazz, as well as a healthy Giants/Dodgers rivalry.  For a time, Kenny was my fishing buddy, having some experience in fly fishing.  For about 5 years we even planned and enjoyed a summer fishing trip in either Oregon or the Sierras.  One year, however, Kenny decided he wasn't going to fish, but rather just wanted to enjoy sitting by a river.  He was always a little odd like that.  My wife even thinks he might be "on the spectrum."  Either way, Kenny has always been a contrary.  

In high school we were both involved in senior class politics. I was class president, and Kenny was a cheerleader. In those days, each Senior class had a name, class colors a fight song, a motto, and cheerleaders.  Hard to believe now, but that was such a big deal back then.  Our class colors were Powder Blue and Black and all the guys wore powder blue tux jackets to the prom.  Kenny wore a coral orange.  Kenny was a contrary.

It was in the late 60s that Kenny and I really bonded.  Despite going to different colleges, we were both still at home and on weekends would go to see all the budding rock groups, the traditional blues and folk singers, and many "foreign films" together.  Growing up in LA had its advantages in that regard.  In fact, I once made a list of the Blues greats we saw at the old Ashgrove on Melrose Ave. That list included the likes of Son House, Howlin" wolf, Lightnin" Hopkins, Arthur Crudup, and Sleepy John Estes.  Taj Mahal and Big Mama Thornton were also regulars at that club.  In many ways those trips from the Valley to the city over Laurel Canyon were transformative.  

A few months ago I noticed that Kenny was becoming harder and harder to communicate with over the phone.  He'd had some health issues, including a bad case of bronchitis, but it seemed as if his voice would be clear and then break up as if he were walking away from the phone.  After that it seemed as if I couldn't make sense of what he was referring to, or as if his words were muddled.  I once got a voicemail from him that really made no sense, as if someone was telling you something important with no context.  

Recently, I learned that Kenny has been diagnosed with dementia.  That answered many of my questions.  His denial and inability to communicate exactly what has been going on now seems normal.

Although I've had some experience with Alzheimers, this diagnosis for Kenny hit me like a gut punch.  I slowly have realized that he will no longer be able to drive, and that our phone conversations may get even more problematic.  His partner tells me that he still enjoys reading. I hope he can continue to do that because he's always been a withdrawn type and being able to read will make his days easier to pass.

It will take me a good while to process all this and figure out how t support Kenny and how best to continue our friendship without any undue stress on him or his partner.  In any event, I know I'll never miss his birthday.