The Sun and the MoonMichael Lanier was my best friend and next-door neighbor. Had been since forever. At the El Rey Community College, the initials M&M didn’t represent chocolate candy, but Mitchell George and Michael Lanier. Yet we were so different, nobody understood why we were such buddies—me least of all. I was physical, Mike was cerebral. He nurtured me in the classrooms, and I protected him on the playing fields. I was a healthy, popular, golden-haired blend of many cultures and bloods; he was a dark-haired, pale, enigmatic Celt. We got along like the opposite poles of magnets. If I could keep him out of his notebooks, he was a great guy. He had volumes of the things filled with his constant scribbling. They were part diary, part observations, and part poetry.
How close we were was
