10.10.1985

I hardly knew him at all. A pewter bowl full of boiling, scalding water, a hand-held mirror, shaving brush, safety razor and a tube of shave cream in the pre-dawn semi-darkness at the corner of the dining table next to the window is my enduring image of him. Another early morning flight somewhere and he would be gone for a couple of days. He surrounded himself with a quiet calm and books. Books that entertained, books that…

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