September 17, 2009
I said in my eulogy that David and I would call each other to talk about fairly obscure things from our past. As I was driving to work this morning, I thought of how we would be on the phone today, talking about Mary Travers. But as was typical with these calls, it wasn't for
the obvious reasons.
Back in Old Bethpage Grade School, located just down Round Swamp Road from the Fischers, there was a kid named Evan Mirabel. He was in our grade. Evan fancied himself as a great singer, even as a third-grader, and all the teachers at school thought he was destined for some kind of singing stardom. (I think he's a DJ now.) Every once in a while, Mr. Fessel, the principal, would get on the P.A. system and say, "Children, today we have a special treat. Evan Mirabel is going to sing "The Bluest Skies You've Ever Seen in Seattle" for us. (It was a Bobby Sherman song for some TV show called 'Here come the Brides.") And Evan would sing away.
But his favorite song du jour was definitely "Leaving on a Jet Plane." He loved singing that song. If Star Search existed in 1969, Evan Mirabel would have been on it, singing, "Well my bags are packed and I'm ready to go/I'm standing here outside your door/I hate to wake you
up to say goodbye...."
And exactly 40 years later, David and I would be on the phone remembering it.
Hope you're all well.
Matt Mendelsohn
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Memories. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
High School English
August 31, 2009
[Re. Matt's note below]
I have a similar high school English class David story I need to tell! David and I were in many of the same English classes over the years. One year in high school, we together had Mrs. Greenspan for both English and Poetry. David could never understand why I had a soft spot in my heart for this woman for whom he had no patience or respect. This, of course, was a source of constant bickering between us. Anyway, all assignments were passed up to the front of the class and Mrs. Greenspan would read them aloud anonymously, and then begin a critique of what was read. One day, she begins to read aloud this anonymous poem:
"A bottle of white, a bottle of red....perhaps a bottle of rose instead. I'll meet you anytime you want, at our Italian restaurant."
I turned around in my seat to look at David who was sitting there grinning like the Cheshire Cat!
Robin Harbus-Fromme (no relation to Ethan, btw)
[Re. Matt's note below]
I have a similar high school English class David story I need to tell! David and I were in many of the same English classes over the years. One year in high school, we together had Mrs. Greenspan for both English and Poetry. David could never understand why I had a soft spot in my heart for this woman for whom he had no patience or respect. This, of course, was a source of constant bickering between us. Anyway, all assignments were passed up to the front of the class and Mrs. Greenspan would read them aloud anonymously, and then begin a critique of what was read. One day, she begins to read aloud this anonymous poem:
"A bottle of white, a bottle of red....perhaps a bottle of rose instead. I'll meet you anytime you want, at our Italian restaurant."
I turned around in my seat to look at David who was sitting there grinning like the Cheshire Cat!
Robin Harbus-Fromme (no relation to Ethan, btw)
David and Ethan Frome
August 30, 2009
[This is] one of my all-time favorite David memories and I can't believe I didn't remember this soon enough to include in my eulogy.
We were in Mrs. Davis' English class in 10th grade or so. Brad Sklar and Andy Landis were in that class. Can't remember who else. (When asked if he was cheating on a vocabulary test once, Andy famously responded, "Yes, I was.") Anyway, we had to read Ethan Frome, written, I believe, by the same people who make Ambien. David was well into his 100th Ursula Le Guin science fiction story by this point, so let's just say that he and Edith Wharton didn't see eye to eye--certainly not a tale about snowbound turn-of-the-century New Englanders doing pretty much nothing of interest.
Mrs. Davis asked the class for its thoughts on good old Ethan Frome. Not surprisingly, no one raised a hand. There was silence in the class until David said this: "That was the biggest piece of s--t I ever read."
It was then, and remains to this day, one of the bigger smiles in my life.
Matt
[This is] one of my all-time favorite David memories and I can't believe I didn't remember this soon enough to include in my eulogy.
We were in Mrs. Davis' English class in 10th grade or so. Brad Sklar and Andy Landis were in that class. Can't remember who else. (When asked if he was cheating on a vocabulary test once, Andy famously responded, "Yes, I was.") Anyway, we had to read Ethan Frome, written, I believe, by the same people who make Ambien. David was well into his 100th Ursula Le Guin science fiction story by this point, so let's just say that he and Edith Wharton didn't see eye to eye--certainly not a tale about snowbound turn-of-the-century New Englanders doing pretty much nothing of interest.
Mrs. Davis asked the class for its thoughts on good old Ethan Frome. Not surprisingly, no one raised a hand. There was silence in the class until David said this: "That was the biggest piece of s--t I ever read."
It was then, and remains to this day, one of the bigger smiles in my life.
Matt
Reading lists and banned books
August 30, 2009
While we were both in college David was the person who told me to read One Hundred Years of Solitude. Knowing him, he probably gave me my copy. In fact, I usually relied on him for my (summer) reading lists, since I was a Biology major with little exposure on my own to new literature. I also read a series of banned books - another David subject, probably because many of his favorite authors would appear on lists of banned books (Miller, Vonnegut, etc.). I remember we followed closely the case of Island Trees - a town on LI with an odd name that I'm sure thrilled David - which lost the right to ban books from school libraries in the Supreme Court. This gave me a new reading list. (I've just looked at the list online:
http://justlists.wordpress.com/2008/09/22/11-banned-books-in-island-trees-v-pico-1982/ - and see that I probably read half these due to the case).
Nowadays my wife has taken over most of the position of literature suggester while David remains principle culture culturer. This Spring that David loaned me his copy of Watchmen to read - in advance of the movie version. I finally saw the movie on DVD about 3 weeks ago.
Dave Ruderman
While we were both in college David was the person who told me to read One Hundred Years of Solitude. Knowing him, he probably gave me my copy. In fact, I usually relied on him for my (summer) reading lists, since I was a Biology major with little exposure on my own to new literature. I also read a series of banned books - another David subject, probably because many of his favorite authors would appear on lists of banned books (Miller, Vonnegut, etc.). I remember we followed closely the case of Island Trees - a town on LI with an odd name that I'm sure thrilled David - which lost the right to ban books from school libraries in the Supreme Court. This gave me a new reading list. (I've just looked at the list online:
http://justlists.wordpress.com/2008/09/22/11-banned-books-in-island-trees-v-pico-1982/ - and see that I probably read half these due to the case).
Nowadays my wife has taken over most of the position of literature suggester while David remains principle culture culturer. This Spring that David loaned me his copy of Watchmen to read - in advance of the movie version. I finally saw the movie on DVD about 3 weeks ago.
Dave Ruderman
The Mets, and the Everglades
August 25, 2009
I love reading about David!
On May 30 I called David to see if he could join me & my son at Citifield as I was given good seats on the 3rd base side for 5/30. Dave & I talked about the Mets since the 69 Miracle but never made it to a game together.
Unfortunately he had to decline because he had a performance to review at the same time as the game (as I recall he said this was one of the few things that could tempt him to reject a job but he was committed)....
5/30/09 was the last day I spoke to David. He sounded great, and I remember it being one of our typical conversations: we always had stuff to talk about because, as I think Matt said, he was always interesting, and interested. We would talk & laugh (can't everyone still hear that laugh?) and laugh & talk, for an hour or two at a time and we'd only get off the phone if one of us HAD to attend to something else. What I'll miss the most is how easy it was to talk to him about anything. One topic would lead to another like movements in a symphony.
I'll always regret not going to a Met game with David. However, I remember going to the Everglades with him in a December, I think 1986 or 87. He introduced me to Turtle Soup and alligator (tastes like chicken!) at a place in the Keys, I think Islamorada...anyone know the name of that place? He had been there a few times. Maybe The Turtle Inn?
That's just one of many favorite David memories for me.
Steve Mernoff
I love reading about David!
On May 30 I called David to see if he could join me & my son at Citifield as I was given good seats on the 3rd base side for 5/30. Dave & I talked about the Mets since the 69 Miracle but never made it to a game together.
Unfortunately he had to decline because he had a performance to review at the same time as the game (as I recall he said this was one of the few things that could tempt him to reject a job but he was committed)....
5/30/09 was the last day I spoke to David. He sounded great, and I remember it being one of our typical conversations: we always had stuff to talk about because, as I think Matt said, he was always interesting, and interested. We would talk & laugh (can't everyone still hear that laugh?) and laugh & talk, for an hour or two at a time and we'd only get off the phone if one of us HAD to attend to something else. What I'll miss the most is how easy it was to talk to him about anything. One topic would lead to another like movements in a symphony.
I'll always regret not going to a Met game with David. However, I remember going to the Everglades with him in a December, I think 1986 or 87. He introduced me to Turtle Soup and alligator (tastes like chicken!) at a place in the Keys, I think Islamorada...anyone know the name of that place? He had been there a few times. Maybe The Turtle Inn?
That's just one of many favorite David memories for me.
Steve Mernoff
David and Thomas Pynchon
August 24, 2009
Hi all—
I met David back in the mid-90s—we were both on the pynchon-l discussion group (as an aside I can tell you that there's lots of fur flying going on on that list but through flame wars and other nastiness, David was always fair and willing to listen and never was condescending or mean to anyone he disagreed with).
There were a few New Yorkers from the list who would meet periodically—I remember fondly David bringing an advanced reading copy of Pynchon's Mason & Dixon in 1997 a few months before the book was released; we met at Swift, a bar on the Lower East Side—fond memories of that night.
After the book was published a few of us (including David and I) went down to the Pennsylvania/Maryland border to find some of markers that Mason & Dixon laid while they were drawing the border in the 1760s—I remember the group of us practically tramping thru people's backyards trying to find the damn things and worried some folks would get triggy happy and shoot us for trespassing on their land ;) —we never did find the marking stones but we did have a nice lunch at the Deer Park Inn in Newark Delaware (where M&D and their band of jolly axemen were purportedly guests way back when).
The other memorable meeting w/David was the surreal night we had dinner with one of Pynchon's friends from college, Jules Siegel's wife Chrissie (who was apparently one of Pynchon's old girlfriends)—and who got good and drunk and annoyingly wondered why we were so interested in Pynchon; we did get her into a cab, at least I saw David off and on during the following years—he gave me the inside scoop of Pynchon's Against the Day and a week or so before he went into the hospital he emailed me to say he was able to nab a copy of Inherent Vice—I hope he was able to read some of it.
I was very moved by the memorial service and I was glad to hear so many loving things about him—there was a large universe revolving around the man and I am thankful I was able to share a small piece of it with him (and indirectly with all of you)
I would love to share a couple of pics I have—one in particular is us on the steps of that place in Newark…
Best
Richard Romeo
Hi all—
I met David back in the mid-90s—we were both on the pynchon-l discussion group (as an aside I can tell you that there's lots of fur flying going on on that list but through flame wars and other nastiness, David was always fair and willing to listen and never was condescending or mean to anyone he disagreed with).
There were a few New Yorkers from the list who would meet periodically—I remember fondly David bringing an advanced reading copy of Pynchon's Mason & Dixon in 1997 a few months before the book was released; we met at Swift, a bar on the Lower East Side—fond memories of that night.
After the book was published a few of us (including David and I) went down to the Pennsylvania/Maryland border to find some of markers that Mason & Dixon laid while they were drawing the border in the 1760s—I remember the group of us practically tramping thru people's backyards trying to find the damn things and worried some folks would get triggy happy and shoot us for trespassing on their land ;) —we never did find the marking stones but we did have a nice lunch at the Deer Park Inn in Newark Delaware (where M&D and their band of jolly axemen were purportedly guests way back when).
The other memorable meeting w/David was the surreal night we had dinner with one of Pynchon's friends from college, Jules Siegel's wife Chrissie (who was apparently one of Pynchon's old girlfriends)—and who got good and drunk and annoyingly wondered why we were so interested in Pynchon; we did get her into a cab, at least I saw David off and on during the following years—he gave me the inside scoop of Pynchon's Against the Day and a week or so before he went into the hospital he emailed me to say he was able to nab a copy of Inherent Vice—I hope he was able to read some of it.
I was very moved by the memorial service and I was glad to hear so many loving things about him—there was a large universe revolving around the man and I am thankful I was able to share a small piece of it with him (and indirectly with all of you)
I would love to share a couple of pics I have—one in particular is us on the steps of that place in Newark…
Best
Richard Romeo
Small things...
August 24, 2009
1) When I got my First Real Job (which lasted six months working for New American Library), I was living in Plainview and commuting. For the first week or two, David and I were taking the same train. He gave me all his favorite commuting tips about where to stand on the platform and so on, and he told me how many post offices (? That’s what I remember them being, but that doesn’t seem right) there were between the Hicksville station and Penn Station). I remember thinking, “Once I’m an Experienced Commuter, I too will have observed and known all these things.” Which of course didn’t happen: that was just David being a first-class noticer. I was reading One Hundred Years of Solitude and he started quoting the first line of it; a Spanish-speaking woman saw the book and overheard us, saying “To me, it is all true.” I thought, “Wow, this is great! I’ll be having literary conversations with strangers on the LIRR all the time!” and of course that was the only one….
2) I did some totally minor favor for him for which he was disproportionately grateful. Every year thenceforth, he’d send a package of dog biscuits for my dog @ Chanukah—very sweet and thoughtful gesture.
3) Exchanging emails with him and mentioning an obit which I found amusing: it was for someone who’d been the artist who’d designed the credits for a number of movies in the fifties (one of them was “The Man with the Golden Arm”). David knew who this person was by name immediately, adding, “He was incredibly stylish.” Stupid detail, but it just struck me as very David that he knew who this person was and that he could sum him up so neatly.
Emily Schulman
1) When I got my First Real Job (which lasted six months working for New American Library), I was living in Plainview and commuting. For the first week or two, David and I were taking the same train. He gave me all his favorite commuting tips about where to stand on the platform and so on, and he told me how many post offices (? That’s what I remember them being, but that doesn’t seem right) there were between the Hicksville station and Penn Station). I remember thinking, “Once I’m an Experienced Commuter, I too will have observed and known all these things.” Which of course didn’t happen: that was just David being a first-class noticer. I was reading One Hundred Years of Solitude and he started quoting the first line of it; a Spanish-speaking woman saw the book and overheard us, saying “To me, it is all true.” I thought, “Wow, this is great! I’ll be having literary conversations with strangers on the LIRR all the time!” and of course that was the only one….
2) I did some totally minor favor for him for which he was disproportionately grateful. Every year thenceforth, he’d send a package of dog biscuits for my dog @ Chanukah—very sweet and thoughtful gesture.
3) Exchanging emails with him and mentioning an obit which I found amusing: it was for someone who’d been the artist who’d designed the credits for a number of movies in the fifties (one of them was “The Man with the Golden Arm”). David knew who this person was by name immediately, adding, “He was incredibly stylish.” Stupid detail, but it just struck me as very David that he knew who this person was and that he could sum him up so neatly.
Emily Schulman
Sunday, September 20, 2009
1986 Mets with David
August 24, 2009
Okay, here's my David/Mets story...we were dating when the Mets won the 1986 World Series so it was a quite a memorable and emotional time for us! During a fateful game that helped decide the series (I can't remember which one but I think it was actually during the playoffs, I'm sure you Mets fans out there can fill in the blanks), we were walking around Manhattan and people were gathered around parked cars listening to the game on their radios. We squeezed into an Irish pub on 7th Avenue in midtown to catch the last hour of the game, which was exciting beyond belief :-). We talked about this adventure for years. And I recall sitting on the couch in his Baltic St. apartment watching the Mets actually win the series, and thinking that I would never forget that moment, which so far has proved to be true. So of course whenever anyone mentions the 1986 Mets, which happens at least several times every baseball season, I think of David...
I also recall buying sushi with David (an exotic delicacy that David introduced me to) and bringing it to a Mets game. This was at a time when the only food you could buy at Shea Stadium was hot dogs and pretzels!
No doubt David is up there somewhere laughing at all of our stories and memories...
Sherri Maxman
Okay, here's my David/Mets story...we were dating when the Mets won the 1986 World Series so it was a quite a memorable and emotional time for us! During a fateful game that helped decide the series (I can't remember which one but I think it was actually during the playoffs, I'm sure you Mets fans out there can fill in the blanks), we were walking around Manhattan and people were gathered around parked cars listening to the game on their radios. We squeezed into an Irish pub on 7th Avenue in midtown to catch the last hour of the game, which was exciting beyond belief :-). We talked about this adventure for years. And I recall sitting on the couch in his Baltic St. apartment watching the Mets actually win the series, and thinking that I would never forget that moment, which so far has proved to be true. So of course whenever anyone mentions the 1986 Mets, which happens at least several times every baseball season, I think of David...
I also recall buying sushi with David (an exotic delicacy that David introduced me to) and bringing it to a Mets game. This was at a time when the only food you could buy at Shea Stadium was hot dogs and pretzels!
No doubt David is up there somewhere laughing at all of our stories and memories...
Sherri Maxman
A thoughtful, loyal friend
August 24, 2009
Hi all,
Thanks for organizing this [an email list]. I did not even know David had passed away until after his funeral, but wished I was there. (I know stuff like that gets crazy when someone dies). David and I met at UVa, where I remember becoming friends when we shared a class in the history of modern art. He has been such a loyal friend, always keeping in touch, always remembering my birthday, which was just the week after he died.
When I moved from California to Boston in 1990, he and I had a great plan to drive my '76 orange Honda station wagon across the country together. He flew out, but then my car died a terrible death in the airport parking garage while picking up my dad for my med school graduation. Fortunately, David had bought a round-trip plane ticket, just in case. We got to visit, and the pictures Joe Grady shared of David at Lake Tahoe were from that trip of his. I ended up moving to Boston by plane.
Periodically, I'd go down to NY to see my sister, who lives in Westchester, and make a trip into the city and get together with David, who knew all the gluten-free restaurants where we could go (sushi and Indian were among his favorites). Often I'd have my kids in tow or others. We walked around Manhattan a lot. One year, for his birthday, I sent David an Amtrak ticket to Boston, but unfortunately, he never used it :-(.
In the months after 9/11, I was hanging around NYC with David, who really could not stop talking how those terrible events has deeply affected him. We rode the Staten Island ferry, just to relax and chat, and he told me how things were in NYC around that time. He apologized for talking about it so much, but I was glad to hear it from him; it impressed me how deeply these events affected him.
Later, when I got interested in breastfeeding advocacy, David always sent me articles about the links between not-breastfeeding and subsequent development of celiac. He was also just so thoughtful!!
Anyway, I will so totally miss him. I can't even believe he is gone. Sometimes I see things that remind me of him, and I'm still in disbelief.
Melissa Bartick
Hi all,
Thanks for organizing this [an email list]. I did not even know David had passed away until after his funeral, but wished I was there. (I know stuff like that gets crazy when someone dies). David and I met at UVa, where I remember becoming friends when we shared a class in the history of modern art. He has been such a loyal friend, always keeping in touch, always remembering my birthday, which was just the week after he died.
When I moved from California to Boston in 1990, he and I had a great plan to drive my '76 orange Honda station wagon across the country together. He flew out, but then my car died a terrible death in the airport parking garage while picking up my dad for my med school graduation. Fortunately, David had bought a round-trip plane ticket, just in case. We got to visit, and the pictures Joe Grady shared of David at Lake Tahoe were from that trip of his. I ended up moving to Boston by plane.
Periodically, I'd go down to NY to see my sister, who lives in Westchester, and make a trip into the city and get together with David, who knew all the gluten-free restaurants where we could go (sushi and Indian were among his favorites). Often I'd have my kids in tow or others. We walked around Manhattan a lot. One year, for his birthday, I sent David an Amtrak ticket to Boston, but unfortunately, he never used it :-(.
In the months after 9/11, I was hanging around NYC with David, who really could not stop talking how those terrible events has deeply affected him. We rode the Staten Island ferry, just to relax and chat, and he told me how things were in NYC around that time. He apologized for talking about it so much, but I was glad to hear it from him; it impressed me how deeply these events affected him.
Later, when I got interested in breastfeeding advocacy, David always sent me articles about the links between not-breastfeeding and subsequent development of celiac. He was also just so thoughtful!!
Anyway, I will so totally miss him. I can't even believe he is gone. Sometimes I see things that remind me of him, and I'm still in disbelief.
Melissa Bartick
More Mets memories
August 24, 2009
I *think* I went to a Mets game with David, way back when . . . the glory days of Mookie, Keith, and my favourite Kevin "Big Mac" McReynolds.
He gave me and my then husband tickets for a game as a wedding gift, and I think he joined us. They were nose-bleed bleacher seats, and I don't remember much of the game itself, but knowing how much all three of us loved the Mutts, am sure we had a lot to talk about in terms of game play.
I also just found a Mets schedule tucked inside a manila envelope containing his play. I'd never noticed it was there before. I find this happening a lot: David surprising me with "Easter Eggs" to remind me he's still around...
x joy
[Joy Remuzzi]
I *think* I went to a Mets game with David, way back when . . . the glory days of Mookie, Keith, and my favourite Kevin "Big Mac" McReynolds.
He gave me and my then husband tickets for a game as a wedding gift, and I think he joined us. They were nose-bleed bleacher seats, and I don't remember much of the game itself, but knowing how much all three of us loved the Mutts, am sure we had a lot to talk about in terms of game play.
I also just found a Mets schedule tucked inside a manila envelope containing his play. I'd never noticed it was there before. I find this happening a lot: David surprising me with "Easter Eggs" to remind me he's still around...
x joy
[Joy Remuzzi]
David and his blinds
August 22, 2009
Just wanted to share this. I've been contributing to a new website for New York City homeowners, called Brick Underground, and they've arranged for this small bit to appear, featuring my mention of David and his window blinds (link below). Many of you are familiar with the David window blind story, and it is dear to my heart, since it is how I came to be back in touch with David after having lost track of him years earlier.
I do renovation design, and people are always asking me for advice about their homes. David had been trying to get his ancient, filthy, metal blinds cleaned, and someone (I think it was Anne) must have suggested he call me. We hadn't spoken since he'd given me advice for my trip to New Zealand, almost 10 years earlier, and I was pleased to hear from him. The last time I'd seen him was at the Rolling Stone offices, he was this up-and-coming entertainment writer and I was this up-and-coming art director. I went to New Zealand for a month (everything he said was perfect and true), and when I came back, my whole life changed and we fell out of touch.
So he asks me about his blinds, and frankly, it's a bit of a let-down. We haven't talked in 10 years and it's about blinds? But ok, I remember how helpful he was about New Zealand. Still, I don't have any sources and I'm anything but encouraging. I basically say, forget it, are you kidding? Break down and buy yourself some new blinds! But this is David, and he doesn't give up. Two weeks later he calls again, totally excited--he found some crazy Israeli guy to come clean his blinds!
Of course, David being David, we kept talking, and made a date to meet up. That's when I found out what he'd been up to all that time, taking care of his dad and how his life had also totally changed, that he'd realized he was celiac, etc. It was great to see him again and we went, after that, to see The Wizard of Oz outdoors at Brooklyn Bridge park, one of my favorite nights with David ever. So began David's tradition of riding me home, far out of his way, on the subway. He was so gallant. That was a summer night 4 years ago, and I'm lucky to have had 4 solid years of wonderful cultural events, nights out, and long talks with David.
And - I still recommend that crazy Israeli blind-washing guy to clients all the time!
http://www.brickunderground.com/forum/my_apartment/upkeep_repairs/help_my_window_blinds_are_a_mess
Clare Donohue
Just wanted to share this. I've been contributing to a new website for New York City homeowners, called Brick Underground, and they've arranged for this small bit to appear, featuring my mention of David and his window blinds (link below). Many of you are familiar with the David window blind story, and it is dear to my heart, since it is how I came to be back in touch with David after having lost track of him years earlier.
I do renovation design, and people are always asking me for advice about their homes. David had been trying to get his ancient, filthy, metal blinds cleaned, and someone (I think it was Anne) must have suggested he call me. We hadn't spoken since he'd given me advice for my trip to New Zealand, almost 10 years earlier, and I was pleased to hear from him. The last time I'd seen him was at the Rolling Stone offices, he was this up-and-coming entertainment writer and I was this up-and-coming art director. I went to New Zealand for a month (everything he said was perfect and true), and when I came back, my whole life changed and we fell out of touch.
So he asks me about his blinds, and frankly, it's a bit of a let-down. We haven't talked in 10 years and it's about blinds? But ok, I remember how helpful he was about New Zealand. Still, I don't have any sources and I'm anything but encouraging. I basically say, forget it, are you kidding? Break down and buy yourself some new blinds! But this is David, and he doesn't give up. Two weeks later he calls again, totally excited--he found some crazy Israeli guy to come clean his blinds!
Of course, David being David, we kept talking, and made a date to meet up. That's when I found out what he'd been up to all that time, taking care of his dad and how his life had also totally changed, that he'd realized he was celiac, etc. It was great to see him again and we went, after that, to see The Wizard of Oz outdoors at Brooklyn Bridge park, one of my favorite nights with David ever. So began David's tradition of riding me home, far out of his way, on the subway. He was so gallant. That was a summer night 4 years ago, and I'm lucky to have had 4 solid years of wonderful cultural events, nights out, and long talks with David.
And - I still recommend that crazy Israeli blind-washing guy to clients all the time!
http://www.brickunderground.com/forum/my_apartment/upkeep_repairs/help_my_window_blinds_are_a_mess
Clare Donohue
A moment of recognition
August 17, 2009
Hello friends of David,
I very much regretted not being able to make it to the services but was somewhat consoled by reading Matt's warm, heartfelt eulogy. Apropos of this, and of Steve Daly's mention of "Taking Woodstock" in the previous message, I thought I would share a small moment of pleasurable recognition that occurred as I was driving to Hunter, NY from the Finger Lakes, where I live, over the weekend, and, somewhere along the way, passed...... Lois Lane.
It was nice to have a little smile about this.
Thanks, Matt.
Chris Karatnytsky
(formerly of the Pynchon online listserv, where I met David about a decade ago)
Hello friends of David,
I very much regretted not being able to make it to the services but was somewhat consoled by reading Matt's warm, heartfelt eulogy. Apropos of this, and of Steve Daly's mention of "Taking Woodstock" in the previous message, I thought I would share a small moment of pleasurable recognition that occurred as I was driving to Hunter, NY from the Finger Lakes, where I live, over the weekend, and, somewhere along the way, passed...... Lois Lane.
It was nice to have a little smile about this.
Thanks, Matt.
Chris Karatnytsky
(formerly of the Pynchon online listserv, where I met David about a decade ago)
Taking Woodstock
August 16, 2009
Gang,
It was so nice to see so many of you at David's memorial last week, and to meet many folks I'd heard David speak of over the years. A big consolation through the shock and sadness was to see how many disparate groups of people David had reached out to, and how carefully he maintained friendships with so many different circles. It's truly galvanizing to see that a life lived in fervent embrace of the arts could touch, move and change so many people. (And wow, my brother belonged to the Science Fiction Book Club too, and had many of the books Matt mentioned in his beautiful remembrance of David.)
I went to see a new film last week, "Taking Woodstock," at an early screening. David would have loved it. I couldn't stop thinking of him during it. It's based on a book called "Taking Woodstock: A True Story of a Riot, a Concert, and a Life," co-written by a guy named Elliot Tiber (he's the protagonist of the movie). Tiber is the fellow who held a permit--gained under dubious circumstances--that allowed the concert to happen after several towns rejected it. The movie begins as a touching picture of life in a dull Catskills town, and of the Tiber character's struggle to care for his aging parents. I highly recommend it--and if only David were still here, we'd have been talking for hours about it...
Peace and love,
Steve Daly
Gang,
It was so nice to see so many of you at David's memorial last week, and to meet many folks I'd heard David speak of over the years. A big consolation through the shock and sadness was to see how many disparate groups of people David had reached out to, and how carefully he maintained friendships with so many different circles. It's truly galvanizing to see that a life lived in fervent embrace of the arts could touch, move and change so many people. (And wow, my brother belonged to the Science Fiction Book Club too, and had many of the books Matt mentioned in his beautiful remembrance of David.)
I went to see a new film last week, "Taking Woodstock," at an early screening. David would have loved it. I couldn't stop thinking of him during it. It's based on a book called "Taking Woodstock: A True Story of a Riot, a Concert, and a Life," co-written by a guy named Elliot Tiber (he's the protagonist of the movie). Tiber is the fellow who held a permit--gained under dubious circumstances--that allowed the concert to happen after several towns rejected it. The movie begins as a touching picture of life in a dull Catskills town, and of the Tiber character's struggle to care for his aging parents. I highly recommend it--and if only David were still here, we'd have been talking for hours about it...
Peace and love,
Steve Daly
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Meeting David's parents
August 12, 2009
All,
On the scale of amusing David stories, this one rates pretty low, but please indulge me. I drove to Sunday's service with Cari Howard. Cari, David, my wife Liz, and I all lived in the same dorm during our first year at UVA. David and I were suitemates while Liz and Cari lived in suites on the floors above us. I was telling Cari that I could recall meeting David's parents only once, on move-in day at the dorm in Aug 1980. I don't remember what I said or did on the occasion, but David later told me that his parents always had a certain fondness for me. At least I thought they did. The memory was so hazy and lacking in specifics that as I was talking to Cari I began to wonder if I had manufactured the whole conversation with David in my mind or perhaps I was confusing his parents with those of another friend.
After the service, back at the Fischers' home, I introduced myself to Mrs. Fischer and said I had met her and her husband that very first day at UVA at the dorm. Her expression grew distant and I could tell she was searching her own memories. After a beat, she said she remembered a boy sitting in front of the suite with his feet propped up on the balcony. Then it clicked. That was me. Now I have no idea why anyone would find that behavior on my part to be particularly endearing, charming, or memorable, and, alas, David is not around anymore to fill me in. But Mrs. Fischer was clearly pleased to be reminded of the episode and I was tickled, too, that we were able to share that memory, however indistinct it was in both our minds.
Anyway, it was a lovely service and very reaffirming to meet so many of David's friends from all phases of his life.
Jeff Seiken
All,
On the scale of amusing David stories, this one rates pretty low, but please indulge me. I drove to Sunday's service with Cari Howard. Cari, David, my wife Liz, and I all lived in the same dorm during our first year at UVA. David and I were suitemates while Liz and Cari lived in suites on the floors above us. I was telling Cari that I could recall meeting David's parents only once, on move-in day at the dorm in Aug 1980. I don't remember what I said or did on the occasion, but David later told me that his parents always had a certain fondness for me. At least I thought they did. The memory was so hazy and lacking in specifics that as I was talking to Cari I began to wonder if I had manufactured the whole conversation with David in my mind or perhaps I was confusing his parents with those of another friend.
After the service, back at the Fischers' home, I introduced myself to Mrs. Fischer and said I had met her and her husband that very first day at UVA at the dorm. Her expression grew distant and I could tell she was searching her own memories. After a beat, she said she remembered a boy sitting in front of the suite with his feet propped up on the balcony. Then it clicked. That was me. Now I have no idea why anyone would find that behavior on my part to be particularly endearing, charming, or memorable, and, alas, David is not around anymore to fill me in. But Mrs. Fischer was clearly pleased to be reminded of the episode and I was tickled, too, that we were able to share that memory, however indistinct it was in both our minds.
Anyway, it was a lovely service and very reaffirming to meet so many of David's friends from all phases of his life.
Jeff Seiken
David and Bill Watrous
August 12, 2009
I mentioned David's idol Bill Watrous in my eulogy. It might have been an obscure reference, even by David standards. Bill Watrous is considered to be one of the greatest jazz trombone players in history, though perhaps a bit overlooked.
David gave me a Bill Watrous record for my bar mitzvah, The Tiger of San Pedro, and I must say that though I got lots of cash and checks that day, no one else thought to give me a collection of trombone music. If you want to hear the song that David and I wore out on the record player, click here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzNg4j-EYYE
The trumpet solo at the one minute mark is pretty amazing but the trombone solo at the end is not too shabby either. David loved it.
Matt Mendelsohn
I mentioned David's idol Bill Watrous in my eulogy. It might have been an obscure reference, even by David standards. Bill Watrous is considered to be one of the greatest jazz trombone players in history, though perhaps a bit overlooked.
David gave me a Bill Watrous record for my bar mitzvah, The Tiger of San Pedro, and I must say that though I got lots of cash and checks that day, no one else thought to give me a collection of trombone music. If you want to hear the song that David and I wore out on the record player, click here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzNg4j-EYYE
The trumpet solo at the one minute mark is pretty amazing but the trombone solo at the end is not too shabby either. David loved it.
Matt Mendelsohn
David and Bob Fosse
August 12, 2009
Dolph mentioned David's imitations of baseball batters' stances...which put me in mind of something David used to do to make me laugh, which was to imitate BOB FOSSE's dance moves...he was actually QUITE a good physical mimic! He really could capture that characteristic Fosse ultra-cool slouch-ing sort of move with a good deal of accuracy. And if you can imagine that on David...it was quite hilarious.
Anne Newgarden
Dolph mentioned David's imitations of baseball batters' stances...which put me in mind of something David used to do to make me laugh, which was to imitate BOB FOSSE's dance moves...he was actually QUITE a good physical mimic! He really could capture that characteristic Fosse ultra-cool slouch-ing sort of move with a good deal of accuracy. And if you can imagine that on David...it was quite hilarious.
Anne Newgarden
Meeting David - twice
August 11, 2009
Hello All,
Hello All,
Well...David and I "officially" met in our Alzheimer's caregiver support group (every other Monday...6-7:30) two and a half years ago. You get the "Hi, hi, hi" and then some background as each person speaks. David stood out immediately. He became (to me) the smart, funny, practical guy who knew alotta stuff about Alzheimer's and how to handle it. He was the BEST group participant. Patient when someone needed to unload. Giving them answers to questions they didn't even realize they were asking. I thought to myself "This is a guy I would probably know outside of Group, but I don't..." Then two years ago I was directing a reading of a play by my friend Rick Willett at E.S.T. and David was in the audience. I thought to myself... "Why is someone from my Alzheimer's group here???" Then I looked him in the eye and he approached me. "Eliza, I have been to your house." Huh??? Turns out David was a dear friend of Anne's who was a dear friend of Rick's and they had come to the going away party I had for Rick when he left for Los Angeles. It made perfect sense. I can't even begin to describe what he did for his parents the last few years. He worked at it, and researched it, and lived it as hard as he could. The hardest thing for me to deal with the last few weeks is that the last conversation we had, on the street, after group, a few months ago, after his Dad died, was David telling me that he was leaving the group, and that he could move on - and that he had finally (after a loooong time) spent numerous nights in his own apartment, and not on Long Island. I was so happy for him. "He's moving on with his life." No one deserved it more!
Best,
Eliza Beckwith
Missing a dear friend
August 11, 2009
I met David in 1986 when we both worked at CAMI. David worked in Publicity with Dolph Timmerman, and I worked down the hall in Theatricals. Though we were colleagues for a few years, our friendship really took off after David left for the job with Life.
Through the years we went to countless shows, concerts and movies – and other excursions as well. I will never forget the hike that David, Howie and I went on near Newburgh, NY. We were lost for hours and I was convinced that we would never return – there was David, calmly and analytically reviewing the hiking trail book (the one with the landmarks that weren’t there anymore) and consulting with Howie, while I wailed that our remains would never be found.
Then there was the shopping trip around Manhattan when he needed to buy a suit for some occasion… another odyssey that lasted for hours. I’ve never known anyone to try on clothing more thoughtfully – or take more time doing it.
We both enjoyed the singing of Fred Astaire, and Busby Berkeley movies – we often quoted funny song lyrics to each other -- a favorite that always cracked us up was “Paducah, Paducah, if you wanna you can rhyme it with bazooka, but can’t pooh pooh, Paducah...”
After I got married we saw each other a lot less, but spoke at least every few weeks. David delighted in stories about my daughters. Over this past summer we were not in touch as much as usual. When the writer Frank McCourt passed away recently, I emailed David, asking him if he remembered a panel discussion we attended some years ago, where Mr. McCourt was one of the speakers. David emailed me back that he hadn’t been feeling well. The phone message that I had left for him was returned from the hospital. He discouraged me from visiting, saying that he wasn’t up to having company. We agreed that we would get together when he was feeling better. His last words to me were “thanks for caring.”
I will miss my sweet friend.
Pam Lederman
I met David in 1986 when we both worked at CAMI. David worked in Publicity with Dolph Timmerman, and I worked down the hall in Theatricals. Though we were colleagues for a few years, our friendship really took off after David left for the job with Life.
Through the years we went to countless shows, concerts and movies – and other excursions as well. I will never forget the hike that David, Howie and I went on near Newburgh, NY. We were lost for hours and I was convinced that we would never return – there was David, calmly and analytically reviewing the hiking trail book (the one with the landmarks that weren’t there anymore) and consulting with Howie, while I wailed that our remains would never be found.
Then there was the shopping trip around Manhattan when he needed to buy a suit for some occasion… another odyssey that lasted for hours. I’ve never known anyone to try on clothing more thoughtfully – or take more time doing it.
We both enjoyed the singing of Fred Astaire, and Busby Berkeley movies – we often quoted funny song lyrics to each other -- a favorite that always cracked us up was “Paducah, Paducah, if you wanna you can rhyme it with bazooka, but can’t pooh pooh, Paducah...”
After I got married we saw each other a lot less, but spoke at least every few weeks. David delighted in stories about my daughters. Over this past summer we were not in touch as much as usual. When the writer Frank McCourt passed away recently, I emailed David, asking him if he remembered a panel discussion we attended some years ago, where Mr. McCourt was one of the speakers. David emailed me back that he hadn’t been feeling well. The phone message that I had left for him was returned from the hospital. He discouraged me from visiting, saying that he wasn’t up to having company. We agreed that we would get together when he was feeling better. His last words to me were “thanks for caring.”
I will miss my sweet friend.
Pam Lederman
David's amazing wit
August 11, 2009
Dear all,
I have been reading everyone's wonderful stories about David (and Matt's and Anne's beautiful eulogies). I thought I would add a few words to the mix.
I met David in a book group in the 90's (he was one of the most devoted of the book groupies and always had so many illuminating things to say). I also knew him as the one who had the brilliant idea of introducing my friend Sasha to her now-husband (and my long-since-friend) Dave. But I only really started getting to know David within the past year or so, as we've been getting together for various cultural events (most, if not all, of them chosen with great care by David, who seemed to have a boundless knowledge of what cultural pearls were out there for the picking). The Film Forum was a favorite meeting spot, and the last thing we saw there together, in April, was the 3-1/2-hour second part of a ten-hour Japanese trilogy that David had introduced me to last year, The Human Condition.
The last outing I had with David was on July 2, when we met for dinner at the Risotteria. I had brought along a friend who was embarking on a gluten-free diet and David graciously and enthusiastically offered to guide her into that world. He spent a lot of time sharing with her his own experiences and his wealth of knowledge on the subject and even took her to a market to show her what gf foods were worth getting and which were worth avoiding. (Like many of you) I had been to Risotteria with David several times. The wait staff seemed to light up whenever David entered, and I always felt that they would spend more time at our table than at any other, for the opportunity to chat and joke with David.
I will miss a lot about David but one thing I will really miss is his amazing wit. I thought I would attach an exchange we had a few months ago on Facebook when he commented on my status update, after I had gone to see Die Walküre at the Metropolitan Opera (David was as well versed in Wagner as he was in obscure French pop songs). I loved his comments (particularly the last paragraph; you can really hear David's voice in it) -- so much so, that on occasions when I've felt blue, I would re-read this exchange to cheer myself up. So last week I pulled it up to "hear" him once again, and now I have copied and pasted it here (edited to make it understandable to those unfamiliar with the FB format).
******************
[My status update:] Emily Rosdeitcher rode with the Valkyries this evening.
David Fischer:
How did you like it?
April 7 at 9:35am
Emily Rosdeitcher:
I loved it. The singing was Valhalla-on-earth, and James Levine was divine. Are you going to hear any of the Ring Cycle?
April 7 at 10:08am
David Fischer:
I heard it (and enjoyed it) when it was first at the Met. Our seats were quite close to Valhalla.
April 7 at 1:56pm
Emily Rosdeitcher:
LOL! (No, really, I did laugh out loud.) I hope, at least, that you didn't have large "immortals" with horned helmets sitting directly in front of you up there.
April 7 at 6:35pm
David Fischer:
No, we didn't have helmeted throngs block our view. Early in the epic I was actually able to see the ring get loose and roll to the edge of the stage. I wanted to shout "Grab it!" and end things then and there. Instead we heard the whole Wagnerian salami, though much of the fall of Valhalla (I hope I'm not giving much away here) was not visible to us despite our aforementioned proximity to the darn place. Amazing what a curtain or overhang (I don't remember which it was) can do.
April 7 at 7:04pm
*******************
My thoughts are with you all, his friends and family, and above all with David.
Emily Rosdeitcher
Dear all,
I have been reading everyone's wonderful stories about David (and Matt's and Anne's beautiful eulogies). I thought I would add a few words to the mix.
I met David in a book group in the 90's (he was one of the most devoted of the book groupies and always had so many illuminating things to say). I also knew him as the one who had the brilliant idea of introducing my friend Sasha to her now-husband (and my long-since-friend) Dave. But I only really started getting to know David within the past year or so, as we've been getting together for various cultural events (most, if not all, of them chosen with great care by David, who seemed to have a boundless knowledge of what cultural pearls were out there for the picking). The Film Forum was a favorite meeting spot, and the last thing we saw there together, in April, was the 3-1/2-hour second part of a ten-hour Japanese trilogy that David had introduced me to last year, The Human Condition.
The last outing I had with David was on July 2, when we met for dinner at the Risotteria. I had brought along a friend who was embarking on a gluten-free diet and David graciously and enthusiastically offered to guide her into that world. He spent a lot of time sharing with her his own experiences and his wealth of knowledge on the subject and even took her to a market to show her what gf foods were worth getting and which were worth avoiding. (Like many of you) I had been to Risotteria with David several times. The wait staff seemed to light up whenever David entered, and I always felt that they would spend more time at our table than at any other, for the opportunity to chat and joke with David.
I will miss a lot about David but one thing I will really miss is his amazing wit. I thought I would attach an exchange we had a few months ago on Facebook when he commented on my status update, after I had gone to see Die Walküre at the Metropolitan Opera (David was as well versed in Wagner as he was in obscure French pop songs). I loved his comments (particularly the last paragraph; you can really hear David's voice in it) -- so much so, that on occasions when I've felt blue, I would re-read this exchange to cheer myself up. So last week I pulled it up to "hear" him once again, and now I have copied and pasted it here (edited to make it understandable to those unfamiliar with the FB format).
******************
[My status update:] Emily Rosdeitcher rode with the Valkyries this evening.
David Fischer:
How did you like it?
April 7 at 9:35am
Emily Rosdeitcher:
I loved it. The singing was Valhalla-on-earth, and James Levine was divine. Are you going to hear any of the Ring Cycle?
April 7 at 10:08am
David Fischer:
I heard it (and enjoyed it) when it was first at the Met. Our seats were quite close to Valhalla.
April 7 at 1:56pm
Emily Rosdeitcher:
LOL! (No, really, I did laugh out loud.) I hope, at least, that you didn't have large "immortals" with horned helmets sitting directly in front of you up there.
April 7 at 6:35pm
David Fischer:
No, we didn't have helmeted throngs block our view. Early in the epic I was actually able to see the ring get loose and roll to the edge of the stage. I wanted to shout "Grab it!" and end things then and there. Instead we heard the whole Wagnerian salami, though much of the fall of Valhalla (I hope I'm not giving much away here) was not visible to us despite our aforementioned proximity to the darn place. Amazing what a curtain or overhang (I don't remember which it was) can do.
April 7 at 7:04pm
*******************
My thoughts are with you all, his friends and family, and above all with David.
Emily Rosdeitcher
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A favorite short film, with Madeline Kahn
August 11, 2009
...My memory just dredged up something that made me literally laugh at my keyboard. If you have ten minutes, watch this clip of a 1968 short film starring, among others, Madeline Kahn in her first screen role. David and I LOVED this movie as kids. It's brilliantly funny and yet brilliantly understated at the same time. In a matter of minutes you'll be howling with laughter ad will quickly see how it perfectly embodies David's sense of humor.
http://videolimbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/madeleine-kahn-in-de-dva-dove-1968.html
Matt Mendelsohn
www.mattmendelsohn.net
www.mattmendelsohn.com
...My memory just dredged up something that made me literally laugh at my keyboard. If you have ten minutes, watch this clip of a 1968 short film starring, among others, Madeline Kahn in her first screen role. David and I LOVED this movie as kids. It's brilliantly funny and yet brilliantly understated at the same time. In a matter of minutes you'll be howling with laughter ad will quickly see how it perfectly embodies David's sense of humor.
http://videolimbo.blogspot.com/2008/08/madeleine-kahn-in-de-dva-dove-1968.html
Matt Mendelsohn
www.mattmendelsohn.net
www.mattmendelsohn.com
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