Dear Mr. George Floyd, Good day to you.
I have no idea what time it is in your part of God’s kingdom. But I do remember vividly our first meeting. It was at a baseball game. You came wearing blue jeans, T-shirt, a cap on, holding a huge paper cup filled with Coke in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. We were seated; you then joined us. That was in Pittsburgh many years ago. You were still a youngster, barely 20, on a trip. We got to chatting and become friends.