Two years ago, when Delores Howard died, I told her son Wayne a moment would come when I’d write about Delores, as I knew her. I was working for The Buffalo News at the time, and I want to say Wayne and I met at the Brooklyn Pickle while I stopped back in Syracuse, and he raised his hands in that everything-in-its-time way that Wayne has, and he said:
You’ll know when it’s right.
As in now…