I guess that answers both of our questions. No, I don’t think you’re being naïve. I think we can be friends, because we have always been friends. We were friends first, right? We’ll be friends to the last too. This trip can prove that to you. I’ll come, and we’ll soak up some sun, and the world will see two college buddies having a good time. Maybe it’s not the life I would’ve picked out for us, but it’s better than nothing at all.
The last thing I want is for you to think about me and be unhappy.
Yours,
Randy
* * * *
February 26, 1974
My sweet Randy,
So now you’re gone, and I feel like someone has eviscerated me or cut my heart out with a knife. This lack of Randy around me is what it must feel like for a baby being born—ripped from the warmth of love, of a secure enclosure, one th
