My friend Julian died on Friday, January 10. His memorial service is today and I read this (though I did not project the silly selfie I talked him into):
There are so many things to love about Julian—
His intellect, his sense of humor, his photographic talents, his insatiable curiosity—never have I met someone so enthusiastic about learning new things.
Julian knew art, he knew literature, he knew music, and he loved New York City as only a Jersey boy could.
Even when he wasn’t going anywhere special, Julian was always a snazzy dresser, immaculately turned out.
Julian’s refusal to eat nearly any kind of vegetable gave me great joy and has always made me feel like I possess secret ammunition when vegetarians start gassing on about their superior lifestyles.
But the thing I loved most about Julian was what an incredible husband he was to my friend Sylvia.
Julian’s love for Sylvia shone through in everything he did. In a world where marriages seem nearly disposable and most of my friends who’ve been married have done it at least twice, theirs is a union that lasted 71 remarkable years, though it was subjected to some of the most excruciating tests a marriage should have to endure.
Julian was the kindest, most respectful and loving partner a woman could ask for. In an ideal world, all young men would be compelled to graduate from the Julian Ander School for Chivalrous Gentlemen before they were allowed to marry, or even date.
I love you, Julian. You are missed.