After the full body cast was on, they took the unsuspecting young man to his bride-to-be's home. They rang the doorbell and hid. The door opened, and with a loud thud, he fell forward straight into the house. The boys heard the women screech and they took off running.

::::::::

We were married 32-years, and together 33. I heard his stories over and over again and never tired of hearing them. I laughed every time, sometimes even harder then I did the first time I heard them.  

When it was his bachelor party time, he was a little afraid that his shenanigans played on his buddies on their bachelor party nights just might come back to haunt him.

He told me the story of he and his buds taking another of their inner circle and the groom-to-be out for a night of fun. They got him extremely drunk, then brought him to a nurse friend who put him in a head to toe cast leaving his eyes uncovered, his mouth opened and breathing holes! But everything else was covered in white casting plaster.

He told me that they brought him into the local emergency room and had a medical person do the casting because they didn't want to risk suffocating him! (This was in the 70's, and obviously hospitals and their personnel were more lenient back then. Also, lucky for them they knew the medical technician.)

After the full body cast was on, they took the unsuspecting young man to his bride-to-be's home. They rang the doorbell and hid. The door opened, and with a loud thud, he fell forward straight into the house. The boys heard the women screech and they took off running.  

Philip was doubled over laughing so hard he could barely make it back to the car. Later he learned it took the entire night to chisel him out of his body cast.

Another close friend and groom-to-be, was taken out and gotten drunk, (a reoccurring theme), then put on the Long Island railroad train. They handcuffed him to one of the center poles and stripped him naked...and left him.

As the story goes, he wasn't found until all the routes were done and the trains were brought in to be cleaned in the wee hours of the night! He made it to his wedding in the nick of time.

As hilarious as I thought these stories were, my all-time favorite took place when Philip was a high school freshman. He told me that he and his buddy, Vinnie, who was under five feet, decided to go to the local diner on bowling night.

Historically, bowling night filled the diner. They planned and choreographed their bit to perfection. (Remember Philip was a want-a-be actor/director his entire life.)

Philip entered the diner first. He wore a caftan type robe, a gold turban covering his curls, dark pancake makeup with a red dot between his eyes. He walked in and the loud congeniality of the diners came to an immediate hush.

Philip took a seat at the farthest end of the counter, took out his newspaper and with great flourish he opened it, spread it out and folded it to appear to read a section. The diners relaxed and began their loud chatter again, when Vinnie arrived.  

Tiny Vinnie was dressed identically as Philip, but he was carrying a hatbox. Again the diners became silent as all eyes were on the two men in robes with dots on the foreheads. Vinnie took a seat at the farthest opposite end of the diner counter, and he waited for the diners to become accustomed to the spectacle.

Once all was normal in the diner again, Vinnie opened up the hatbox, removed a wax head from the box and began a chant. Everyone was starring when Vinnie took out a long knitting needle from under his robe and ceremoniously, with a loud chant stabbed the waxed head.  

In unison, Philip grabbed his head, screamed and fell to the floor! Pandemonium broke out. The diners jumped over the tables and over each other in a scramble to save themselves and get out of the diner all the time shrieking and screaming with fear.

The diner owner yelled at the boys in Greek, which of course, they didn't understand, but found the moment too funny not be doubled over in laughter. The owner called the police, who in turn called Philip's father. Philip knew he was in trouble, but thought it was worth whatever the punishment would be.

His dad paid the diner owner $60 for broken glass and meals unpaid. As Vinnie and Philip sat in the backseat of his dad's car, Philip could see his dad's eyes in the rearview mirror. He knew he was mad.

Suddenly, Philip's dad pulls the car off the road; he couldn't contain himself another moment. He started laughing uncontrollably, saying, "That's the funniest thing you've ever done, Philip."

Philip and Vinnie had to pay his dad back. There was no punishment. As I write this, I find myself laughing. I can see the gaiety in my handsome Philip's eyes as he told me the story so many dozens of times.

He had so many jokes, and he told them so well, but I have a few favorites. This one is flavored with salty language, but to clean it up would spoil the joke, so here goes.

It takes place in a bar. A John Travolta type from Grease struts in, he's wearing all black with his shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel with gold chains around his neck.

He walks up to the bar, puts his arm around one of the ladies and says, "Isn't it a lovely night?" They start laughing and having a good time. A few seats down the bar is a drunk. He says in a drunken slur, "Hell, I can do that!"

He stumbles over to a lady at the bar, puts his arm around her and points towards the ceiling with the other and says, "See that f*cking cloud?"

I was never a particularly adept teller of jokes. I do hope the humor wasn't lost in my retelling.

September 18^th will mark one-year since I last gazed upon his beautiful countenance. One year since he made me laugh out loud. A year since he held me, or kissed me, or made love to me: A year can be so very long when one is missing another more than words can express.

I can tell these stories now without crying, but the tears still flow when I least expect them to, especially when my eye makeup is perfect. I get dressed and check myself in the mirror, but he's not here to tell me how beautiful I look. He told me so every day, sometimes several times a day, and he meant it.

He never noticed my imperfections, my weight gain, my once graceful walk that became more stilted after breaking both of my feet. He had nicknames for me. The first was "Face"; then came "Hollywoood" exaggerating the "wood"; affectionately he called me "Normi" and there was a dozen or so more"he kissed my hands all the time.

He'd watch me put my "face on" in the mornings. Early in our relationship he even filmed me while I put on my makeup. He loved my naiveté, but even more loved to rile me and watch me get angry with the telephone company when they'd make an expensive mistake on our bill.

The early days were so much fun: Those days when you're still learning about one another, when you are still trying to impress one another. Although, I don't think Philip ever tried to impress anyone, not even me. He was always himself; it's much of what made him extraordinary. 

I could fill pages describing his attributes and the passion with which he loved me, but for now, I'm just going to close my eyes and bring his face to my vision. I'm going to remember one of his funny Philipisms and put my head on my pillow and feel him near"     

Authors Website: www.togetherforeverchanging.org

Authors Bio:
Norma Sherry is co-founder of TogetherForeverChanging.org, an organization devoted to educating, stimulating, and igniting personal responsibility particularly with regards to our diminishing civil liberties. She is also an award-winning writer,producer and television host.