Monday, September 9, 2019
I met Espo in 1991 at Metlife. He was my first Underwriting Supervisor. Our Dad’s both worked at Met so, “we were legacies, they had to take us”. Somewhere between Happy Hour after work at Hefron’s and today, we managed to become good friends. Over the years, we partied often together, even in Chicago and New Orleans. My wife, Anita, would endlessly try to fix him up on dates with her friends. Four or five times a year, he would come out and crash overnight at our home on Long Island. He’d pull in our driveway in his green convertible, top down and blasting Herb Albert music loud enough for the whole County to hear. He’d bring half a liquor store with him from Wantagh, and we would eat, drink, swim and shoot pool until the wee hours of the morning. When I wanted to make an independent film, he was quick to accept my offer for him to play a lead role in a part that I wrote specifically based on his life. We spent a year making the film and decided that it was one of the most fun times of our lives. His humor was wickedly sharp, dry and sarcastic and he was extraordinarily giving and generous. He loved his Kansas City Chiefs, the Mets and the ponies. Today, I lost a friend. Rest in Peace, Espo. You deserved a lot better than these last few months.
