I was penniless in my mid twenties, but I had a friend, Hal, who adopted me like a brother and treated me to the life of luxury. We met in the USAF in New Mexico, and he asked me to move to Chicago after my discharge if I didn't have other plans, so that's what I did. His parents owned two first class restaurants; one a night club with Hawaiian theme, and the other a Japanese restaurant. I worked as an assistant mater'd at the night club on Friday and weekends to earn a little money. We used to double date, and he always picked up the tab. When I moved back to California to continue my education, he eventually moved to California too. The night club is where I met George, a popular waiter at the club. We became good friends, and he also moved to California where he met his wife. He flew up from San Diego for our wedding in San Francisco. We kept close contact, and lived close by. We watched each others children grow up. George loved to eat, and he was diabetic, and that's what ended his life.
I learned decades later from his wife that Hal had a heart attack and died in Hawaii.