David Honigsberg

It has been said that, if a person is going to die, he should do it in the morning: when the day is new and clean and full of unanswerable questions, when the sun has just risen to cast an afterglow on the things that have been done by night. It has also been said that, if a person is going to die, the circumstances are irrelevant.
—John M. Ford, from Aspects, a novel unfinished at the time of his death

David Honigsberg died nineteen days ago, in the morning.

A lot has been said about him in a variety of places, some by me, much more by others. There isn’t a heck of a lot more to say. To me he was my friend, my occasional business partner, my employee, my poker buddy, my teammate, my competitor, my fellow connoisseur, my rabbi– and since I’m not Jewish, all the greater accomplishment.

I did my share to help his wife, Alexandra, deal with the immediate aftermath and other needed things.

I spoke briefly at the service, somewhat extemporaneously. I’m told that there was a recording of it, so I’ll transcribe it when I can.

And now, I’m done with the hiatus on writing here, but it just wasn’t right to write anything here without tipping the beanie to him.