It was probably around 1976 or so, maybe a bit earlier. My partner and I had just decided to incorporate our newspaper business and expand to communities outside our own. He was a minister, I was a guidance counselor. Neither of us had a clue about running a business. We just knew we needed to keep going what we'd begun.

Doug Leonhardt and his partner, Bob Sisko, had begun a computer consulting service, Solar Systems, Inc. We agreed we needed their expertise for our bookkeeping, and our 21-year relationship took off like a rocket. Every Friday, Doug trekked to Berlin to pick up our raw sales data. First thing Monday, he came back with our ledger, receivables, payables... everything we needed to function as a business. In his spare time, Doug coached me in rudimentary bookkeeping skills. To this day, I can't let even a stray penny keep me from reconciling my checkbook. I hear Doug scolding me to find that penny before it multiplied in subsequent months.

In off hours, Bob took dance lessons at Arthur Murray and entered competitions. He was good. Often, I stood in for his dance partner and loved every minute. We polkaed, waltzed and swung, foxtrotted and two-stepped. Bob was a natural; I struggled to keep up.

We were good friends. When the Rocky Horror Picture Show came out, we bundled into our cars every Friday night and went to the TLA (Theater of the Living Arts) on South Street in Philadelphia. Bob dressed as Dr. Frank-n-Furter and Doug as Dr. Scott. We laughed until we cried, danced and pranced and acted with the characters on the screen.

Eventually, my paper went to new owners, not without a great deal of sadness and regret. Doug taught me how to balance my books but he couldn't teach me how to be a good manager. I had to walk away with virtually nothing to show for my years at a job I loved. 

Doug and Bob moved to South Carolina. We kept in touch sporadically over the years. About ten years ago, he traveled north to visit friends and we met for lunch. When he joined Facebook, he posted his high school graduation photo, with a smart remark so characteristic of him.

About a month ago, something told me to call. I already knew Bob had passed a few years earlier and I was concerned about Doug. It was then I learned he had congestive heart failure, was in hospice care at home and wouldn't live long. We talked for some time...well, he asked me to talk so he wouldn't tire and I told him all my family news. Then we reminisced about our friendship and the years we had together.

Last Thursday, I called again. Weaker this time, he wasn't able to say much. I told him I loved him; he said "You, too." He said he was waiting, ready to leave. At 84, he'd lived a happy life.

Doug passed the following afternoon. He went as he wished...at home, where he and Bob had lived for so many years. All I can say is rest in peace, my friend.