While still in the city I called J up and came over to his house—his nice apartment with the awful murals in the lobby and the roof where we smoked out of the large ornate Indian looking pipe his oil rich retired dad gave him. I twitched and jumped hard when falling asleep. I remember him saying he’ a little lost, but I may have dreamed it.
Michael Gilligan’s such a dear—an actually genuine speaker. He sounds emotional when he speaks; he pronounces the last syllable of a sentence with extra breath. I sat next to him at the luncheon for Luce scholars in the Trustee Room at the Met. When he asked what I had been reading lately, I responded honestly—Harry Potter! Later that week at Tavern On The Green, when he introduced each scholar individually. He did two things that made me know I was part of the right program: one, he introduced me as “Ming”; two, he called my big brother Marc by name-he knew it was important to me that my brother bear was there.