On July 25, 1942, the Weinstein family brought in to this world their only son, Mike Weinstein. In his own words, he was just a skinny kid from the Bronx. That skinny kid from the Bronx turned out to be one hell of a great human being.

Mike and I happened to go to the same High School in New York. I never thought that I’d run into him in Milford, Pennsylvania… but I did, and we started the second part of our relationship. But I digress, what I should tell you is that he was a United States Marine, went on to become a world class district attorney and world class defense attorney in Milford and one of the smartest, brightest and finest individuals I’ve known in history.

On June 29, 2024, he died in New York. He died way too young.

When I threw the dirt onto his coffin I didn’t believe I was doing it. I’m not sure I still believe it.

I will love and respect him forever, along with several dozen of my dear friends that have moved to the next level of consciousness.

I was there to bury his son Jessie (one of my photographic models over the years), his beautiful wife Luisa who happened to be not only a friend, but also a model I used over the years, and now he joins them.

Once reality hits, I will go back to their grave and put several stones on their grave that I gathered from the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. I will do that and then I will know that it is final.

I miss the three of them.

Vaya Con Dios.

Michael went to another level of consciousness, thank god, before the supreme court made the imperial king Donald Trump… thats enough.