By Raffique Shah
June 21, 2025

Simon and Garfunkel sang: Old Friends, Sat on their park bench like bookends; Winter companions, the old men, Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset; Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly. How terribly strange to be seventy; Old Friends.

I lost an old friend last week. A comrade in arms. An old soldier with a philosophical soul. One whom I could spend hours chatting with on the phone and never get tired because there was always something to talk about. David Brizan, whom I fondly called Obi, passed on after ailing for some time.
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