DEAR RICK — Buddy! Where the heck ARE you? As if I don’t already know. We are long overdue for one of our clandestine lunches. I seek legal advice and besides. I miss our Mafia Don meals, amigo. Remember? We’d meet in the oddest of places, sometimes a to-go snack, enjoyed on a park bench on a beautiful spring afternoon or at the mall food court, invisible among the hundreds. My favorite? It was when we’d show up at a closed restaurant, just you and me, as staff quietly bustled about. All that was missing was a small squadron of thick-necked personal bodyguards with roscoes. 

Note to self: Get Thick-Necked Personal Bodyguards. 

It’s such a power statement. 

As mentioned, amigo, I’ve a serious legal problem. As Mr. SCV, I don’t think this valley can continue without you in it. You made your transition a short while ago and I can’t offer the old cliché of, “… to a better place.” It’s that, “… on Earth as it is in Heaven” issue. You see, the half-century plus I’ve known you, dear friend, you’ve help make Santa Clarita more than a bit of heaven. 

Cripes and heavens to Betsy, Rick. It just hit me. We used to play basketball together a million-six years ago in the local Gas Station/Mineral Water Leagues. I believe the proper term was, “Gas Station/Beer Leagues,” but, you being a swell member of the Latter Day Saints, well. In your honor and in respect, I’m always happy to follow your example and search for that........

© Santa Clarita Valley Signal