Val Kilmer. To the public, a movie star. To me, a devoted friend.

Quirky, offbeat. Count the ways:

Early one morning. He shows up at my home. Unexpected. Unannounced. I didn’t know he’d just arrived from California. He shows up at my door unexpectedly. Why? Who knows. Val was Val.

Having seen us together before, building personnel then routinely checked permission to let him in. But I’m out. My housekeeper phones me. I say, of course, let him in. I’m home in an hour. He’s been in our place before. It’s Val Kilmer. For sure, allow him in.

This movie star’s perspired, unshaven, in a rumpled, armless T-shirt, scruffy shorts, sandals. Toes showing. And hungry. My housekeeper makes him breakfast. He’s happy. He’s safe. No luggage with him.

Returning, I hear big sounds of water gushing in a john.........

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