We are so very lucky to have had him in our lives

I met Josh over twenty years ago via e-mail when a friend of his I knew who was describing him to me tired of my questions and impatiently gave me his address, saying, "Why don't you just ask him yourself?"

Soon afterward we met in person, and I loved him instantly.  Josh delighted in teasing his friends and I was no exception, especially once he realized how susceptible I was.  He never ran out of foibles, real or imaginary, to have fun with. I loved the way he called me "Roooooo-thie" in a baritonal sing-song, a swooping-up higher note to the lower one, that sometimes sounded a little like an Eleanor Roosevelt imitation. He could draw it out really long, or he could do the quick version. Sometimes it had a little rise at the end. The descending interval varied according to the situation, expressing a pending thought in need of completion, decisiveness, announcement, astonishment or disbelief, but generally amusement along with any of these. The ascending intervals of course signaled an upcoming question. He became "Joshie", as you might guess, and although that was a little harder to give the sing-song treatment to, I tried. How good it was to be enfolded in his hugs, what a pleasure it was when an e-mail from him would appear in my in-box or I would hear his voice on the phone. I felt completely understood and appreciated by him, as I think so many of his friends did. His lively concern for my well-being and happiness in my romantic and work life never flagged. We would happily garden side by side, making trips to the nurseries and weighing the merits of this or that plant, digging and hauling and weeding (he had no end of fun in accusing me of uprooting all his sorrel in one of my cyclone-like weeding frenzies) until we were fairly covered in dirt from head to toe. There were the wonderful meals in New York, where I learned to overcome my terror of fine dining through experiences where the food was outstanding but paled in comparison to the conversation. He liked all good restaurants, humble or fancy; but no restaurant was chic, trendy or elegant enough to make the slightest dent in the protective aura that surrounded me when I entered such a place with Josh. I doubt he so much as noticed the other diners, who depending on the place might be dressed to the nines unlike us; but he always felt perfectly at home, and therefore so did I.  Another friend has commented on his penchant for engaging waitstaff in the humorous, somewhat baroque Joshian style of extended comments and queries regarding the menu. These more often than not took a few elaborate twists and turns before their meaning, oftentimes quite a simple one, at last hove into view.  I often felt a subtle concern while this took place. I wasn't as sure as Josh seemed to be that the waitpersons in question would have the patience and openness to settle in for the quirky conversational ride which seemed to force them to depart slightly from the comfort of role.  But generally they did; and I can imagine, given what I suppose is the rarity of real interpersonal acknowledgment in such work, he was the highlight of the evening if not the workweek for quite a number of them.  Whatever we were doing at the time, I experienced perfect sympathy with this dear friend who had the ability to hear precisely what I meant and respond to it at levels far deeper than my words alone would have earned from anyone else I know.  This happened with no sense of effort, just the most relaxed observation and expression.  Conversation with Josh ranged far and wide, and I have not known anyone more comfortable to be with whether in talk or silence.  I never felt the need to measure my words or second-guess my manner of saying things with him, never felt judged in any way, and never felt the slightest tug to be something I wasn't.  I simply felt loved, 100%, by the most sympathetically insightful and caring and appreciative and goodnatured friend possible.  And it was mutual. We mattered to each other.  Josh was certainly a safe haven for me at the deepest level.    Meeting so many other terrific people who loved him and were loved by him was another great experience.  At his parties in Brewster, each of them somewhat different in feel, groups of his friends would be martialled by twos and threes to slice and cut and peel and chop, getting to know each other through easy conversation over shared work.  I can almost feel the summer sunlight pouring down, see the handthrown pottery he loved so much and the funky bright vintage ceramic serving dishes, mismatched and full of character, all loaded with colorful, delectable combinations of fresh ingredients following the latest offbeat recipes he had unearthed for the occasion. Exotic ingredients made appearances: corn fungus!, tomatillos, cactus leaves, Indian spices whose names I don't remember.  On the terrace overlooking the lake, meat and fish emerged smoky and gorgeous from the grill under his watchful care.  Long tables were cobbled together and covered with a motley assortment of tablecloths, benches and chairs were set up, and a happy crowd of people from the lab and elsewhere, from in town and away, people he'd known for 40 years and people he'd just met yesterday, sat down to eat and talk together. Josh had such a good-humored and easy way of making introductions and making everyone feel at home and then just setting them loose to have a good time; and the conversation with lovely, smart, talented and nice people from all sorts of backgrounds, individuals I would likely never have met otherwise, was a joy.  Even the cleaning up afterward was fun in this company.  The astounding thing is that in all this hubbub I never saw him stressed at any moment.  Everything unfolded as if charmed. I am thinking of all of us who knew and loved Josh, and truly I don't think it matters so much whether one knew him for decades or only a short time.  If you loved him, you loved him, period.  My sympathies and love to Valerie, Carl, and all of you near and far, too numerous to begin naming here, who held him dear and continue to hold him dear in spirit.  We are so very lucky to have had him in our lives. Ruth Libbey Cambridge, MA