In Appreciation for Your Portrait of My Father

Dear Elyse,
What a pleasure to read your piece on my father this Thanksgiving. He loved the day with family surrounding him, good music, and yummy gourmet plates concocted by my mother. But as your article suggests, he had a deep well of understanding for humanity, of the contradictions in life, the winning and losing, the pain of yearning and the quixotic nature of success. He shows his modesty in the quotes you have chosen with his inimitable sense of irony and beyond that — his humor. He could make anyone laugh, and often at his own expense. His searing ability to observe was like no other. He could weave a tale, see the little things, a turn of phrase, a cock of the head, a squint that meant more than what was said. No matter the tragedies he faced — and there were many — he chose life. He chose love. He lived over five years after my mother, Mab Ashforth, died. They met when he was at Princeton, he was 19; she was an irreplaceable force, his greatest inspiration. With six children she supported him begging, borrowing, and stealing (literally) to give him the space to create. Everyone gave up on him, but she would not. So his loss of her when he faced death, and it refused to come, was profound. Instead, he said “thank you” to his children every day, choosing to answer loss with gratitude. I miss him.