One of my dearest friends died this morning. God damn him.
What the hell am I to do with the rest of my life’s sunday afternoons?
He created a world that was every bit as magical as anything disney conjured up.
He collected people like most people accumulate tchotchkes. The essential attributes of a desirable collectible were to be smart, interesting or entertaining, preferably all three. Being young and nice looking was a plus.
His circle of friends was immense and as diverse as it was wide. He was the lynchpin of a special universe that only he could pull off.
His feats of what seemed like effortless entertaining were legend. Lunch parties for thirty in his extraordinary garden, child’s play. Parties for fifty to celebrate the blooming of joe pye weed, why not?
He was smart as a whip and had a memory that was astonishing. History, literature, music and of course politics.
He was a proud leftie who relished crushing conservative orthodoxy with withering precision.
He loved a good discussion, or better yet, argument and I never saw him concede his point to anyone.
When I met him, I literally felt like dorothy in the wizard of oz when she opens the door and her gray world is suddenly transformed into technicolor.
He lived his best life. And died, I am sure, with few, if any regrets.
I am so grateful to have known him.
And wherever he is now I hope he saves a place for me.
my jaundiced eye 
What a lovely eulogy. Will you write mine?
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