I was raised in Philadelphia and remember him well from my teenage years. Too bad.

Harry died too young, but I take solace that when his time did come today, he was at the ballpark doing what he loved…preparing to call a Phillies game.

I got the message when I was at work and had to take a short break to get over the shock. It’s not just a man that passed away, he was much more than that. Even though I never met him, he was like an friend who was always there for me. Today, a part of me and my childhood died.

I could hear my Dad in the background asking what was wrong and when he found out, he too, got choked up, took the phone from my Mom and reminded me of the day, almost 40 years ago, that we met Harry K and how kind he was to a certain 12 year old boy whom had just recently moved to Philly from Pittsburgh Pirate-burg. HK had just left Houston so he sympathized with the 12 year old.

I don’t know. I still miss Whitey still and now they’re both gone. I think my parents felt very old today but I’m very glad that I was the one to break the sad news.

I was that twelve year old boy and Harry K always felt like an uncle of mine after that meeting many moons ago. Listening for almost 40 years. Starting each and every April.

I still remember the times when Richie would say something borderline idiotic and Harry K would then immediately say something to get Richie off the hook.
It was finally my Dad that would explain to me that it was an extra inning game and that Richie had one too many Schmidt’s or brandy sours and that his friend Harry was just covering for him.

Man, I’m gonna’ miss those two.