Eulogy for Robert Lewis. April 28, 2018 -July 2, 2022

"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan….a stately pleasure dome decree" (Coleridge) 

"Between the dark and the daylight, when the night is beginning to lower, comes a pause in the day’s occupation that is known as the Children’s Hour." (Longfellow) 

"I’m nobody, who are you, are you nobody too?" (Dickinson) 

"Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table …boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom" 

Well known words from poems embedded in my fathers memory. As children, we heard them often. As an elderly man he still recited poems for us, for nurses, for doctors, for others. They were part of his being. 

Just last year, as the dermatologist was raising his scalpel, Bob spontaneously burst out with: 

Surgeons must be very careful 

When they take the knife! 

Underneath their fine incisions 

Sturs the culprit — Life! 

When I asked where that came from he told me, quite correctly (of course) Emily Dickinson! 

I once asked him where and when he had learned these poems. He said he used to read poetry while waiting for basketball practice to start. I envision a young man in basketball shorts and a tee shirt, black and white high-tops, sitting on a bench with a book and getting lost in poetry, only to be called to the court, the basketball court, to lead his team, the NYU team emblazoned with violet, on to victory. 

What a transition, from the solemnity of a poem to the sweatiness of a basketball game. 

He was a complex being. 

But, one thing was constant: he always had a strict sense of right and wrong. 

Guess he was like his mother Fanny, whom he and his brother Norman often lovingly referred to as “Faigalah.” So I used to hear,,,she would yell at the news on radio, and root for Truman whom she loved. She would also shout out about baseball plays as well,,, as she paraded around her apartment or stood over her stove, cigarette hanging out of her mouth. 

Well, Bob, too, had strong notions of right and wrong, and they were not only ideas in his head, they were ideas, images of right and wrong which he would act on. Early in his life he worked for Bulova Watch Company. I know not what happened but he was fired and when he was fired he was threatened that they would work to make sure he never got a job again. I don’t recall the details, but for many months he was unable to get a job, and, he sued…of course. I don’t remember how it all worked out…..I was 7 or 8 and more interested in riding my bike ….but I remember that he stood up for what he thought was right and fought for it. We did survive,,,I know he got another job and another and another and we always had enough to live on though my youth was not one permeated with wealth. 

Many years later, when my mother with advanced Alzheimers disease was in a nursing home at huge cost, my father,,,,,always the financier…. kept manipulating his stock account, selling puts and calls, buying them back, reselling them, so he would always have enough income to pay my mothers nursing home bills. At some point his stock broker was disturbed by the risk he was taking and single handedly, in paternal fashion, sold him out of all his positions. The bottom line was substantial financial loss. The broker justified the action by saying it was to protect Bob’s financial position for my mother, but, this was far from reality. My father knew it and he sued,,,,unfortunately he never really got his just due…but kept trying. More recently when he lived with us in Washington DC, we would find the start of letters about this injustice he knew he had suffered. He knew he was right and he wanted to pursue it. Yet at his then quite advanced age he really didn’t have the fight left to carry his battle out unaided. One of my regrets is that I didn’t help him more towards at least obtaining the day in court that he thought he was due. 

Like all of us, my dad had flaws. He was always, as he acknowledged, the great procrastinator, wanting to do so much more than he could, often getting lost in books, or watching a tennis match rather than pursuing the mundane chores such as filing tax returns which he notoriously filed late each year. 

Many were the nights when he couldn’t sleep that we found him reading a new book, or rereading an old favorite. Many were the dinners he was late for because, like a kid, he couldn’t put down the latest book. 

In Cleveland Park, where we live and where he lived with us after coming up from Florida, many of our neighbors have erected “little libraries” outside their homes. These libraries serve as a repository of books that people want to give away and for others a source of free books. On his daily walk my dad would always stop and scour the contents of the libraries, filling his room with books he wanted to read. And while he never got to all of them he read a considerable number. And he would regale us with the contents. I remember the month that all we heard about was Cleopatra, and, then there was his love affair with Winston. On his shelves just before he died I found a book of short stories by Somerset Maugham, an old second hand version which had an invoice from Amazon…. I believe it is a duplicate of a book we have in our house which originally came from him. Tho his eyesight was too poor to read from an ordinary book (he used kindles/iPads with enlarged print), he must have seen this old friend for sale and ordered it, possibly deluding himself that he might be able to read a bit of it. 

And, tho some like my daughter Abby may rue this, Amazon was his friend: he could order books. his favorite Milka chocolate bars, new shirts which he never wore for at least 6 months, and so on…. 

Even if he couldn’t do all he aspired to, he always tried to be better, and smarter. He truly embodied one of his favorite lines from a poem by Robert Browning: “his reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for?” His room in Brighton Gardens where he lived the past couple of years was filled with new acquisitions (many of them the same as what he had previously owned in other abodes): kids books by David Macauley describing “How things work,” “Underground,” “Castle.” And other manuals explaining how things worked. His book shelves included “internet for dummies” and many other such self help books. Dad had a hunger for knowledge and for understanding things; he always said he was totally flustered by computers/iPhones/kindles, but he used all of these daily. He kept buying new versions of the kindle, hoping each new version would be better than the old one. He even bought a new “typewriter” so he could type his letters of protest as he didn’t have a printer set up. But, of course, he did have a printer which we found hidden under his bed… I think he was embarrassed to tell us he had gotten one. He aspired to understand all the new electronic gear we live with today, and failed mostly because in the past couple of years his ability to aim a finger or stylus at exactly the right letter waned. So so many passwords had to be reset, not because he forgot the password, but because he accidentally pressed the wrong letter or number. 

His fascination with the mechanical world, coupled with his self-proclaimed inability to understand it remained present throughout his life. I cannot recall how many times he tried to build a “crystal radio” when I was growing up. At least once, I remember, he managed to get one to work and communicated with somebody using morse code. Really? And now we have computers and cell phones that puzzled him even more, hence, the manuals for the “dummies” which were omnipresent on his bookshelves. 

When I think about the Browning quote,,,one’s reach exceeding ones grasp…I think this was one of the best life lessons my dad imparted to me…. That I should try to do things even if they were hard. I grew up somewhat independently from my family. There were two younger siblings who seemed to require more attention, and I was happy off on my own with bike and friends from at least the age of 8; in high school I had a group of friends and don’t remember relying on my family much. I rarely got ( or needed or wanted) help with homework but somehow I was taught (maybe by osmosis) that I could aim high and do anything I wanted to do. I was imbued with a confidence in my own abilities: if I reached for it and tried and tried again it was mine. And this lesson, more than any other has influenced my life choices. 

Socially, my dad tended to be a bit of a hermit. He was content reading his books alone most of the day and into the night. My mother, Bernice, was the social force in their marriage. She would be the one to arrange social engagements, and my dad often complained he didn’t really want to go; yet, once he went out he usually had a most enjoyable time. He was able to suffer fools but not those who were cruel or unkind to others. Yet, he often lacked the insight to understand his own small acts of unkindness. This was always a contrast that shocked me. Tho, as with all that I am saying here today, this is of course an oversimplification of a complex being. 

My dad’s love for his wife Bernice was long lasting. She lived in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s for many years before she died. And he loyally would visit her daily, making sure that she had the best care. One year, when he was diagnosed in Fla with metastatic melanoma, Steve and I arranged for him to come up to Hopkins for extensive and definitive surgery. He must have spent a week here (in DC) at the hospital and with us but as soon as he could return to Fla he did so as he didn’t want to leave my mother alone, tho, by this time she lacked most knowledge of who he was. Over the years, their partnership was a good one; they complemented each other well. She tolerated his idiosyncrasies: his radio kits, his gadgets, his tardy tax returns, and his frequent tennis games. And he tolerated her idiosyncrasies as well and supported her through her frequent serious depressions. They loved to travel and for two kids from the Bronx they traversed the world in their later years with joy and curiosity. They were not lookalikes, but a good pair. 

After my mother developed Alzheimers, and still later after she died, my family had the great good fortune to have Bob travel with us on numerous vacations. Early on, when Bernice was alive but in a nursing home, we persuaded him to join us for a few days in the Bahamas…it was also the first trip where Valerie (now our daughter in law) accompanied us. We stayed on a somewhat remote island with our own boat to get around from beach to beach. This trip was followed over the years by so many others. We flew him to Maine where we were joined by the Singapore crew, and the newly born granddaughter Margalit. I remember him getting down in the sand and even trying to play ball with the kids on the beach…he was only 95 then. He also accompanied us a year or so later to a house on lake michigan….we even found a house with an elevator so he could get up from the steep driveway into the house. And we all went sailing on the lake one day, with Bob in his glory, enjoying the water, the wind and the kids. And there were good old beach trips to Bethany Beach where we were lucky enough to be joined by our three kids and grand kids. What joyful memories these vacations provided. . . 

I have not touched yet upon my dad’s athleticism. He truly was a world class athlete. And he loved basketball and tennis. He loved to throw a good ball or hit a good tennis shot. In college he led the NYU Violets to numerous victories and we have many albums of newspaper clippings of his prominent basketball career. He played professionally for a short while before being sidelined by a ruptured achilles tendon. But his love of basketball remained. I recall going to games that NYU had each year where alumni were invited to play; he would love doing this. And once when our children were younger we often recall how he walked up to a basketball court in our neighborhood and asked a group of kids if he could join. They of course thought this was silly but good naturedly said sure, and then were shocked by how he , guess what, made the baskets!!! ….. and he must have been in his 60’s or 70’s at that time. His love of tennis also was a constant throughout his life. Until he was 98 or 99, he used to have a coach, John, who he would play with a number of times a week. And he would watch tennis matches with awe proclaiming his amazement at how good some of the players were. 

But, no less was his awe and pride when shown a video of his granddaughter Margalit jumping off the high board at a pool. We had to put this in an easy to find place on his iPad so he could look at it often….. 

My father took pleasure from many things, but as much as anything, he enjoyed his own and others physical accomplishments. He loved a good stroke, a good serve, a well made basket. And during the last few years of his life he tried so so hard to improve his strength. When he lived with us in Cleveland Park a physical therapist came in every week and he loved the challenges she offered. After he broke his hip in Jan 2021, he tried so hard to regain strength but unfortunately never quite gained enough to walk again. Yet 6 weeks before he died he was on an exercise bike for at least a short time. The accomplishment of moving was something that very simply gave him pleasure. Yes, multidimensional, a man who enjoyed moving for the sake of moving but could sit still for hours lost in books. 

I started out with some lines of poetry that permeated my childhood, and I think it fitting to end this eulogy with one of my dad’s favorite poems, Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt (1834). It well reflects my father’s distaste for ritual but respect for those who are kind to their fellow man. 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) 

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 

And saw, within the moonlight in his room, 

Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 

An angel writing in a book of gold:— 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 

And to the presence in the room he said, 

“What writest thou?” — The vision raised its head, 

And with a look made of all sweet accord, 

Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord,”

“And is mine one? Said Abou? “Nay, not so” 

Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 

But cheerily still, and said, “I pray thee, then, 

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.” 

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night 

It came again with a great wakening light, 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest 

And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.

Joan Baez' Farewell Tour

Last night she came, she sang, she made us remember. She says it is her farewell tour.

Is it farewell because she plans to retire, to end her performances? Or is it Farewell to a time when we could stand up for the good and protest with heart and dignity?

Her performance last night made me wonder.

Yes, she has aged since I first heard her on college campuses and coffee houses in the 60’s. Her gorgeous clear soprano is but a memory, yet her musicality, her ability to project a song, a mood, and move an audience is as good, if not better than ever.

She made me remember what seems to be another time. We were young, naive, and optimistic. We thought we could right wrongs with protest and song. We thought we could end segregation and injustice to Blacks with protests, voter registration drives, and marches in the South. We thought we could end an unjust war with yet more protests and sit-ins. We had hope and vision. We really thought “we shall overcome.”

Maybe this is because we were young, we were students, and all our friends had the same optimism about our abilities to fix the world.

Yet everything seems so different today. Is it because we are older?

Have we lost the optimism of our youth? Or, has the world changed.

To me, it seems such a bitter place today. All around the globe one can identify areas where groups of people are being mistreated (minimized, ignored, tortured): in Myanmar, Syria, Sudan, Mali, Nigeria, El Salvador, Venezuela, to name a few. Pockets of poverty have grown and there is little way out for so many human beings. Immigrants from the middle east stream to Europe trying to save themselves. Immigrants to the US stream in because, despite the problems we have here, matters are far worse in their home countries.

In our own country, founded on democratic principles, we are divided. Some of us hate and fear the immigrants. Others want to help. We call each other names and distrust the motives of those we oppose. So many want to have wealth and seem to value this over human kindness. Some believe that those who want a universal medical system support handouts to deadbeats rather than healthcare for those who are in need. Some believe that guns which have caused so many deaths in recent years should be outlawed/regulated; others believe the right to own a gun is but the hallmark of freedom. Some believe a woman should have the right to choose for herself whether or not she gives birth; others oppose abortion as “murder.” In the Congress Republicans and Democrats vote for their respective parties rather than the principles that are before them. And, our divisiveness seems to be filled with bitterness and hatred and with few hopes for reconciliation.

So I return to my original question. Is this tour a farewell to a wonderful singer who feels she must retire, or, is this a farewell to another place and another time.

Deplorable Stories

Three new and deplorable stories about Trump came out yesterday. Not one, not two, but three within one 24 hour period.

The first had to do with his foundation. As reported by the Washington Post: "Donald Trump’s charitable foundation — which has been sustained for years by donors outside the Trump family — has never obtained the certification that New York requires before charities can solicit money from the public, according to the state attorney general’s office."

What this means is not only that the foundation solicited money illegally, but that there has been no responsible monitoring of whether the money spent by the foundation was in fact used for charitable purposes rather than for personal gain. (Since it has already been reported that $258,000 from the foundation had been spent to settle legal problems and that $10,000 had been spent by his wife to purchase a portrait of Trump, this new evidence about the lack of certification raises an even larger question about the use of the foundations funds.)

The second involved expenditures in Cuba during years when such spending was under embargo. As reported by Newsweek: "A company controlled by Donald Trump, the Republican nominee for president, secretly conducted business in Communist Cuba during Fidel Castro’s presidency despite strict American trade bans that made such undertakings illegal, according to interviews with former Trump executives, internal company records and court filings." The funds were given to a contractor and disguised as having a charitable purpose....the only kind of expenditure then permitted.

Very simply this means that Trump violated US law and put his own business interests above those of the nation. One has to wonder whether his attempt to develop a chummy relationship with Putin is but a current-day version of these priorities.

Of course, the third involved women (yet again) and involved the treatment of women (waitresses and others) at Trump clubs. As reported in the LA Times: "Donald Trump wanted only the pretty ones, his employees said. After the Trump National Golf Club in Rancho Palos Verdes opened for play in 2005, its world-famous owner didn’t stop by more than a few times a year to visit the course .... When Trump did visit, the club’s managers went on alert. They scheduled the young, thin, pretty women on staff to work the clubhouse restaurant — because when Trump saw less-attractive women working at his club, according to court records, he wanted them fired." At least two individuals have taken this to court and some sort of settlement without admission of liability was reached; in addition, all employees had to sign non-disclosure agreements when hired so public discussion would have put them at risk of losing their jobs or being sued.

This story (especially when combined with his continued attacks and "fat-shaming" of former beauty queen Alica Machado) just further underscores his obsession with the female appearance; this is a man with a sick mind who minimilizes women (as well as others) and treats them as objects for his personal use. Little question remains of his misogynistic traits.

These three stories....all in one day....come on top of many others: defrauding students at Trump University, discriminating against tenants who were "colored" (coded with a c) who applied for apartments in buildings he and his family owned and ran, not paying (stiffing) numerous contractors who provided services, numerous bankruptcies (leaving those he owed without pay for services they provided), criticizing a judge because of his Mexican heritage,,,and, well, the list goes on.

This is a man without morals. He is an ugly human being. Yet he retains support. How and why remain a mystery.....

Dear Bernie

Its time to go! Yes it is!


I love your positions. I love your fight and your spirit. I love the way you have called our attention to the injustices we face in our country: inequality, the stranglehold of Wall Street......Nobody will be able to ignore these problems ever again.


But you have now done your thing; you have awakened our national consciousness. It is time to get on with it and do everything you can to prevent a Trump win.


As you and I both know, Trump is a dangerous man. Not only is he a narcissistic demagogue with heinous, bigoted and inconsistent policy positions (if you want to call pronouncements about deporting immigrants "policy positions"), but he is irrational and truly frightening.


Years ago people analyzed Nixon (see the old book Nixon Agonistes) and thought that many of his pronouncemnets were rhe result of paranoia. But compared to Trump, Nixon was secure! All we hear from Trump is how people are against him and "not nice" to him. More and more is coming out on the fraudulent activities of Trump Univesity. Trump's response is to attack the judge on ethnic grounds and to accuse him of bias.


Trump changes what he says (give Japan nuclear weapons, don't give Japan nuclear weapons) more rapidly than the phases of the moon change. And he is so thin-skinned and reactive to even the slightest insults that many of us are truly frightened for world peace.


So Bernie, Hillary Clinton is the clear Democratic Party nominee. And as we all know she is smart, experienced and highly rational.


If you don't see this, you are less smart than I think you are.


And she needs your support to help her win and defeat her very scary, very irrational, and totally absurd opponent. But not only does Hillary need your support, I need your support, and the American people need your support. I truly believe that if you get behind Hillary, we can defeat Trump.


It is imperative that Trump be defeated.


And at this point in the contest, every criticism of Hillary that you put forth is only fuel for the fire that Trump is igniting....You know, of course, he is quoting you and I hate to think that your statements would be the reason for his victory.


So,,,,I beg you. Get out now. Defeat Trump. And then, continue to fight the good fight.

The Blame Game

THE BLAME GAME Because a young child ended up in a gorilla’s enclosure, in a zoo, the gorilla was shot and killed. Tragic and terribly sad. A handsome young gorilla, a rare and fine example of his species, who did not seem to be doing anything wrong, is dead. So sad....... though, like others, we need to point out that the child is, thankfully, alive and well. A tragic and sad event, but who’s to blame? Many point to the child’s mother and think it is her fault for not watching her child closely enough, for letting him find a way into the gorilla’s compound. She is called incompetent, is said to be an example of inept parenting, and, some have even called for her to be investigated for possible child neglect. Her behavior is said to be the cause of the gorilla’s death. Others, equally adamant, condemn the zoo staff, arguing that they should have used a tranquilizer and not a gun. Still others point to the zoo structure and say it should be constructed in a way which prevents humans from getting through. Some (I hate to say this) are even blaming the child and saying he should be responsible for his actions (a 4 year old, really????). Seeking an explanation for a tragic event can have a good result. It may enable one to take corrective actions that prevent a repeat tragedy. Building higher fences or barriers with smaller openings might prevent children from squeezing into dangerous animal compounds. Maybe more personnel are needed as guards. But, in this tragic gorilla incident, most of the comments are not constructive. They are not tributes to the wonders of the gorilla, the care he has received and fact that urban dwellers are able to see and appreciate a being such as this. They are simply rants about how somebody or other did something wrong. Why? Why do so many of us feel the need to elevate ourselves by criticizing others? Please, lets stop playing the “Blame Game” and start having useful conversations.

Marnie: Our Special Gift

Marnie came into our lives because our old friend Calhoun had left us. Diagnosed with an osteosarcoma at age 12, we played with him, gave him pain pills and treats and loved him until the day he could no longer walk to his water bowl alone or climb the stairs. It wasn’t too long after the diagnosis that we said good bye. When we returned from vacation shortly thereafter, we all felt the need to find another pet…the house was too empty without Calhoun. Though we were looking for a puppy, Calhoun’s breeder offered us Marnie…her then 6 year old poodle who had been neutered after two litters. Marnie had been given to others first, but was returned because she never came back when she was let out….she loved chasing squirrels and deer….their loss was our gain. And until two days ago, she continued to chase squirrels whenever she could. We went to meet Marnie and she was a sweetheart….especially the way she played with her daughter…. Though much quieter than Calhoun we took her home and as the saying goes, she wormed her way into our hearts. She was delicate…a black poodle with lovely graceful head. Her movements were feminine though not dainty. Chasing tennis balls was her passion….and she thrilled Noah this summer by catching the ones he threw to her. He got so excited every time she caught the ball in the air, and, through her he learned the phrase “fly ball.” But, most important she loved being loved. She never got enough attention, enough pets, or enough opportunities to lick people. Visitors would constantly find a head under their hands…..and she often slept on the bathroom rug when I was in the shower.She was a wonderful companion . She started to behave a bit strangely Friday night….in the midst of the storm. She jumped into bed with us (something she usually only does on cold cold winter nights) and could not seem to get comfortable. We thought it was storm anxiety….but a day later she stopped eating, was quite lethargic. Initially the vets thought it was an obstruction from a foreign object, but, during surgery they noted a large tumor surrounding her ileum. We could not bear the thought of putting her through the major surgery, likely complications, eventual chemotherapy and likely bad outcome in a short while….so we opted to say good-bye. She was with us far too short a time, but I have to believe she was a special gift embodying sweetness and grace that we had the good fortune to live with for at least a few years.

Faux pas of the Social Networking type.....

So, I think I committed a faux pas. A social networking type of one.

What is a faux pas? Literally, a “false step” or a violation of accepted social norms. More generally, a “blunder, especially a social blunder.”

If you call somebody a jerk behind his back, well, thats not a faux pas, just plain old dumb and rude as well!

In the old days, faux pas were, IMHO, silly little rules of etiquette such as: don’t wear white shoes after Labor Day. If you Google faux pas you find out about Pippa Middleton and her blunders wearing dresses that are too short, or wearing green to a wedding (violating the rule: weddings and green should never be seen).

But today we (all of us) have a world of new opportunities for faux pas. Due to Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and who knows how many other sites that expose us to the world, our blunders can be “out there” in no time….and at the doorstep of a large audience.

We all know about the person who called in sick for work, but then posted their adventures on FB…..certainly a blunder with possibly major consequences. ODesk blog (2009) lists other social networking faux pas as well: posting a pretentious profile, arguing with a friend’s friend on their wall, posting something every 5 minutes (how many people do we know who do this?), exchanging messages with old flames while currently married, accidentally replying to multiple recipients….ha ha,,,,

Well, a few days ago I blundered. And the consequences have been, well, …….interesting!

Somebody sent a request for a connection on LinkedIn. Despite the fact that I haven’t yet figured out what LinkedIn will do for me (or anybody else for that matter) I accepted his request. The next screen that popped up had a long list of many people I know (with checks by their names) and I was presented with the option: “invite them to connect with you” or “skip this step.” I didn't look very carefully at the list because I intended to click “skip this step.” However, as you have probably guessed, I inadvertently clicked “invite.” Like the sorcerer’s apprentice and his errant broom, I watched as a couple of hundred invites to connect with me were sent out. And, like the apprentice I could not figure out how to stop this.

But what is so interesting is that immediately, I started to receive replies. Within 30 minutes 15 people had accepted my invitation to connect. Who were they? One was the owner of a travel business I had used over 5 years ago, another was a doctor I knew professionally from the past, another was an author of a travel site that I had sent information to (many many years ago), a few were old acquaintances, and four others I knew not at all. The list has grown…..at this point, over 100 people have “connected” to me. Wow.

Who are these people? What do they have in common? And why do they want to connect with me? They include many of my acquaintances who own some sort of business: doctors, lawyers, accountants, real estate agents...One is the journalist son of my second cousin (don't think I ever e mailed him); another is the real estate agent daughter of a friend (also never e mailed). Then there is the attorney in Switzerland I have never heard of (OK maybe there was some connection with relatives living in Switzerland?) And today I got a couple of more "acceptances" from other attorneys in NYC....none of whom I know at all...and none of whose services I need at present.....

My connections certainly comprise a funny list. What kind of algorithm does LinkedIn use to generate the list of requests....eeks....how would it know about some of these people? It must be based upon email contacts, but then again, it didn’t include a lot of people I do email …..and it did include people who I really don’t think I ever emailed before.

Tis more than a little unsettling to see how much LinkedIn can find out about my life.... Even funnier, tho, is how many of these people that I know not at all just automatically accepted my request for a connection......

But, as one person said to me….."its good to be connected.” And I guess this clearly demonstrates just how many people’s paths we cross in one guise or another.