Thursday, September 22, 2016
43 years ago I caught John F. Stewart's ball in a game called "Knockout" at Hindley School Day Camp. I was the hero of that game because no one -- absolutely no one -- could catch John's ball, not even Mr. Bowerman, the gym teacher. My nickname was Peewee and John's was Stewbomb, and ever since then, John promised to protect me. We became blood brothers. From the Darien Ice Rink to the YMCA -- From the Puritan to the Noroton Heights Fire Department, we left no stone unturned. I grew on him and he grew on me. For years to come, I followed him and he followed me; we ate together, we laughed together, we cried together, we worked together and we lived together. I knew him. He knew me...upside down and backwards. Our friendship was impenetrable. I thought maybe we could grow old together, but as he would quote all the time that "it wasn't in the cards." My name is Michael Aaron Posner, and I truly lost a loving soul, my best friend John F. Stewart.