Thinking of Chris, I see his radiant face across the PCL library. What beauty. What life! (That’s what we all remember: the life force in him; his positivity even under the burden of Parkinson’s.) I remember even what we were discussing across the library tables: his just having seen and then read Robert Hughes' Shock of the New. So much comes back. Us playing tennis in the early 1990s, in South London and at a court in Kent belonging to your friends, Hazel, or Chris’. Us having hilarious PCL lunches—macaroni never tasted so good--and subdued movie showings—the projectionist was a fellow film-fanatic and died, much too young, just a few years later. Us with Eric Mottram at your home. Us having tea with subdued and courtly Gregory Corso. Us finding Prime Minister Thatcher, her blue purse carried like a cake, walking on Charing Cross Road one summer night, befuddled Dennis striding 20 feet ahead and a lone bobby 10 feet behind. With a mere flick of the will, I can stand with my wife, Jane, in an apartment (yours, Hazel?), the summer blowing in through the windows, as you and Chris and your family and friends celebrate your marriage. For his unforgettable passing, you brought together friends from across the world, most of us in virtual attendance, felt spirits crowding the hospital room, tears on our cheeks, as Norma said, each of us feeling parts of ourselves, our lives, life itself that can only be reached in times of deep emotion. Your courage, Hazel, your grace, openness, trust, and resilience are things for which we can never thank you enough. We will take them to our graves. And, appropriately, among those of us gathered, the most memorable words came from you: "It is like a sanctuary in his room, away from the world and its trouble and strife. It is a healing time for me and Chris. It has been hard, nay oftentimes impossible, to talk/connect with him over the years as he existed in his Parkinson's world of hallucinations and pain. "He can now quietly listen as we come to an understanding and peace about lost times and opportunities of what might have been and how it could have been so different for us. Although, what we have had is unusual, it has shaped, strengthened and honed me to know what is important and valuable in this little life we all share." Bill Stott