Jeramiah was a bullfrog, and Hyski O'Rooney McVautie O'Zoot was my friend. Both brought joy to the world. And when this lovely, kind, and generous man who was Hyman Aaron Lit died last Saturday it was like a cloud passing before the sun. Everything grew dark and then everything grew bright again. Nothing had changed in the landscape of Philadelphia, and yet nothing would ever be the same again.

When I walked toward the chapel at West Laurel Hill where Hy's funeral service took place Monday afternoon, I noticed a familiar name on a monument, a gravestone, standing among others like a kitchen appliance floor model in the small garden of stone in front of the funeral home/chapel. The name on the tombstone was almost as legendary in Philadelphia as that of Hy Lit. It read, "Adrian Balboa. March 10, 1950-January 11, 2002." This is where Rocky's wife was laid to rest -- at least, it was the granite memorial used as the stone for Adrian's gravesite in the 2006 movie Rocky Balboa. The cemetary scenes in the movie featuring a grieving Rocky were shot on the other side of the Schuylkilli inside Philadelphia proper in the original Laurel Hill Cemetary. But there it was --Adrian's momument on the Lower Merion side of the river when I arrived to say farewell to another Philadelphia legend.

Cool, huh? Poignant. Poetic. You could even say, yes, perfect.

Among the many tributes to Hy Lit, the man, during the funeral service, the one I appreciated the most, the one that made me laugh, was delivered by Hy's best friend of 50 years, Steve Schulman, who once aspired to be famous as Hy's sidekick.
Schulman told about the time in the early 1960's when he and Hy went to New York to pitch a rock and roll TV show idea, which the New York suits liked. Steve would have been Ed McMahon to Hy's Johnny. An attractive offer was made by the Gotham TV executives, but on the way home on the train, Hy kept saying, "I don't know. I'd have to leave Philadelphia." And Steve is saying, "Schmuck! We're talking New York! Are you out of your mind?" (Steve didn't say Schmuck at the funeral.).

They arrive at 30th Street Station a little before midnight and they're starved. But nothing is open. No restaurants, no vendors. "And if you know anything about Hy you know how important food is," Steve says.

Finally they see an awning with someone moving beneath it. It's a woman closing up a hot dog stand. A very unpleasant woman as it turns out. "I'm closed," she says nastily. They beg like drunks (which they probably were, but Steve didn't mention that either) for anything. Bread, a roll, anything. She has one hotdog left. She hands it to Hy, along with one coffee in a cardboard cup. Steve looks at Hy like a puppy about to pee. Hy rips the hot dog in two "and he hands me the bigger half." Hy takes a sip of coffee and hands Steve the cup to share.

Then Hy reaches into his wallet to pay the lady. He hands her a one-hundred-dollar bill. The lady, nastier than ever, says, "I can't make change for that." Hy says, "Keep it." The lady says, "You're giving me a hundred dollars for a hot dog?!"

And Hy says, "Just imagine what I would have given you if you'd have been nicer."

Then Steve Schulman sat down without another word.

Amazing.