If we had been old enough, I would have thanked him by buying him a drink. That fall of 1978, though, we weren't, and so we settled for a cup of tea at Young's.
Turns out my new friend loved to cook, spoke fluent Spanish, and claimed to be an excellent dancer. He got a kick out of tacky landmarks, like the big phony cow in front of the Hilltop Steakhouse in Saugus, Mass. I told him I'd never eaten there.
Nic and Kathy McSweeney '82 enjoy a rainy U.S. Open. Nic attended the event every year, with Kathy often joining him.
"I'll take you!" Dom exclaimed, unleashing another of those surprised/delighted/curious guffaws that I began to realize were going to be regular occurrences.
Dom was irreverent, fiercely loyal, and unabashedly different. His energy was electric. When I got free tickets to the Allman Brothers, I asked him to come along. What was I thinking? This was a man who later spent the equivalent of a 10-year mortgage attending every Madonna tour ever scheduled.
Fifteen minutes into the concert, and about two minutes into "Jessica," Dom asked, "Are there any words to these songs?" Not this one, I replied. "Let's go!" he cried, linking my arm with his.
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