Now we are at the 50th anniversary of one of the darkest Fridays any of us will ever know. I’ve grown up and perhaps grown old, but never outgrown the agony of that afternoon, which I remember better than I remember yesterday — because it has, to me, always been part of the present, never the past.
And so I never invited George Samiljan home to play again. I bump into him every decade or so and we unfailingly exchange a warm hello, and maybe a handshake. But that’s it. No reminiscences, no promises to get together sometime. Because we won’t get together sometime. We never will. We are tied, and divided, by one afternoon.
North Shore native and Pulitzer Prize winner David M. Shribman is executive editor of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.