Gary and I went to a school picnic together long ago.  Because my father was out of town on business and couldn't give us a ride, Gary walked to my house and we planned to take a cab from there. As I was getting into the cab, the driver pulled the door shut on the fingers of my left hand. The driver was very upset and waited while my mother bandaged my hand up.  Gary was so concerned.  We went to the picnic at the top of Sherman Park and had such a nice time.  Through the past 60 years or so, I've always thought of Gary when I've had orange pop and hot dogs.  Strange what we associate with people.  Such a nice person.