I've been going through old negatives tonight. So many memories. Then I found one from 1988 of my best friend through art school, I know it's going to sound like a porn star's name but this is Andrew Hung, my best friend all through my two years at the Art Institute. One day he came up to me and in broken "bro-english" told me, "You're more 'Oriental' than I am. We're going to be friends." As a child he'd been sent to the USA by his parents, who didn't seem to know what to do with him. He landed in Youngstown, Ohio of ALL places. It was the late 70's, just google "Youngstown Tune Up." That'll explain the culture he found himself. Having grown up in the martial arts, he naturally found his way to the gym. Only it was full of "made" jabronis. His indomitable spirit, akin to my own, turned what could have been a very bad time into a stranger trans-formative one. By the time I met him he was a honed fighter, truly ripped, and spoke with a totally old-school, mobster style, Italian accent.The only time my (then) girlfriend & could find "alone" time was when we literally hid under our window sill while he called out our names, his face pressed against the glass. Oh the stories from those days I could tell. And those crazy fights we got into together! I miss him so.
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