1. As kids, Josh and I would love to sit on his bed with the Baseball Encyclopedia, open the battered tome to a random page, and peruse through whatever entry our eyes happened to land upon. Regardless of year, team, or player stature. we would immerse ourselves in his career. On one occasion, we even stumbled across a guy whose lone Major League appearance was as a pinch-runner! The two of us would contently search through this canon and discuss the national pastime for hours on end.
 

2. While in college and early into my working life, we had a neighborhood softball team—the Speed Slugs (short for Sluggers)—that competed in an informal league on the concrete fields of Midwood, Brooklyn. The captains of the three or four teams would arrange matches over the phone and then inform the others. Although we failed to win a single game (the Slugs were rained out once with the score tied), all the guys had a whale of a time. Despite the incessant losing, there was never any finger-pointing or ill feelings. Most of the squad even turned up for practice!
 

The games were generally held at P.S. 193 (now fittingly dubbed Gil Hodges Public School) on Ave L and Bedford. I happened to be walking through the schoolyard on an “off day” when my eye discerned a swastika slyly insinuated into the pitching rubber. Upon arriving home, I immediately called up Josh to inform him of this desecration. The very next day we purchased a can of spray paint on Kings Highway and expunged the vile symbol. I vividly remember feeling uplifted not only by the deed itself, but from sharing the experience with the team’s fine-fielding first basemen. Never have I felt so close to another person as we left the field, talking about Jewish history.
 

3. The last time Josh and I got together was a few years ago, by virtue of overlapping visits to the borough from Oakland and Jerusalem, respectively. As usual, Josh reached out and made time for me during the few days that he had in New York. Since I was working at the HUC Library in Greenwich Village, we agreed to meet at Shimmel’s in the afternoon. About ten minutes before the rendezvous, I rushed out of the building and headed towards Houston Street. After a few blocks, I suddenly heard my name. I looked up; and it was Josh sauntering up Broadway, in the opposite direction of the venerable knishery! I could just sense how elated my friend was to be back home, wandering the busy streets of Manhattan. As usual, it was a wonderful few hours covering a vast array of subject matters. If that were not enough, the serendipitous detour and shared walk turned into a historical tour of all the neighborhood’s public libraries.  

A version of this piece will appear in a forthcoming anthology on Joshua Spivak