Pat Martino’s story is a remarkable one musically and medically. We had been neighbors, constant companions and close friends in the late ‘60s. When Pat returned to New York in the early ‘80s to play his first gig there since his surgery, he stayed at my apartment. I got him laughing (he’s often too serious) and reminiscing. His memory blocks were strange encounters for me. A person we’d known well or a standard like “Stardust” would draw a complete blank from him, while other more esoteric people or music would be vivid memories. There was never any pattern and enough of his past came back to fuel his future.