In 1992, six Jewish people from Los Angeles decided to go to the Republican National Convention in Houston. It was the first such convention for all of us thus we were novices about the whole affair. We went to see the speeches, but these events are more about the parties. One of the gang got a flyer about a group called the National Jewish Coalition (now the Republican Jewish Coalition) which we felt was right up our alley. We went to the event and our story begins.
I met the person hosting the event and we became instant friends. I have been to Houston many times since -- for the World Series, Baseball All-Star Game, weddings and Passover amongst other events – and have made many friends. One of those friends, Gary, called me in 2004 and told me his son, Jonathan, had just graduated Indiana U. and was moving to Los Angeles to get in the entertainment business. Gary asked if we could look after the son. We of course did so, inviting him to family events, holiday dinners and baseball games. He became a surrogate family member.
Our adopted son went to a wedding in Chicago and met a young lady. As their relationship blossomed, she then moved to Los Angeles. I eventually learned she is a Cleveland native (where I also grew up), but we never really discussed that matter in full. They then let us know they were engaged to be married. The wedding was to be in Cleveland the weekend after the Presidential election. Deciding to go was an easy decision, especially since we were to be in Ohio working on the election.
Flash forward to the beginning of this past October. In planning to go to Ohio, I was asked to put together a debate between Dennis Prager and a notable Democrat in Cleveland. As I was working all my Cleveland contacts, a childhood friend suggested I contact another grade school friend named Stuart who might be able to help. We were unable to get the event done, but Stuart and I struck up a nice relationship and I told him I would be in Cleveland for the wedding. He told me that he would be at the wedding also and that the mother and father of the bride were in our junior high class (I left Shaker Heights after the ninth grade). I pulled out my ninth grade annual and sent the photos of the bride’s parents to both my friend and the future groom…
You now have the picture. I was attending the wedding of my Houston friend’s son who lived in Los Angeles with a young lady whose parents I grew up with in Cleveland. This is just the beginning.
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