Harry

Harry was just a year out of college when he tried taking census in New York City's Lower East Side during the summer of 1970. He was sweaty and he tied a bandana around his head to keep his long hair from falling over his eyes. Harry loved music almost as much as he loved Carolyn, whom he felt he'd known forever. He was cool and she was pretty: a match.



He immediately grew close to apartment dwellers on Houston Street who took him in and would remain forever friends. Edison, the eclectic multi-instrumentalist, became a go-to guru for Harry. The kids could sing and that excited Edison. He was pivotal in pushing Harry and Carolyn, young yet in love, to marry.



Moab, Utah, land of Arches, beckoned Harry and Carolyn. Years later, one of their daughters lived there while everyone else in the family was back East. The topography, rock formations in browns and reds, could not be duplicated and these stunning scenes cast mesmerizing spells. Much, much later, Harry and Carolyn, now in their early sixties, would briefly return.



A troubled Harry gradually admitted to himself that his memory was no longer sharp - and he was worried to the point to panic. He sought Edison and his old friends and his daughters and, of course, Carolyn. On his better days though, he would neither give in nor give up.