I recall Phil at the Post-Gazette one time, doing a column on a writer pal of his who died. Wells Twombly, from San Francisco, I think it was. I looked in once in a while. Phil was having a tough time. I think he was just about crying. Writing about an old friend will do that to you.
This is about my eighth time, trying to say goodbye to Phil. I want to get this done before I hear him yelling, hey Slick, you got that piece done yet? Going empty on words is pretty unusual for me. I guess Phil just over-upped me. Just too many warm memories to handle. That’s the best way I can explain him, the kind of guy he was, the kind of writer, and boss and friend. You never worked for Phil. You worked alongside him. And for all the people on here who loved his writing, let me say you missed the best part. You should have known him, too. I’m going to quit here. I feel like hell. Kerilee and Kristi would understand.
Marino Parascenzo, Ellwood City, Pa.