I and my husband fly back to New York. My husband had lived there in Harlem as a child, although he grew up in New Jersey. Now an adult, my husband is introducing me to people; and that is how I met this dear man. He, like so many, is now gone. However, our hearts remember, whether he makes the newspaper page or not. He was a fixture on that stoop--an icon! A regular that people passing by saw and took for granted. Did they know that he was an artist and a world traveler? Now, he is a memory. He lived a life of his choice, but he was more than just some dark-skinned Italian man.