12.09.2019

tony

Daughters Ali and Delia preside over a funny, tearful celebration.

When I moved into this apartment in 1977 (?), Tony and Toby and their toddler, Ali, were living in the apartment directly above me. The building was like a Time Inc. dorm. Frank, in the same apartment a few floors below, knew Tony and Toby from Time-Life Books. Douglas, who was introduced to the building by Frank, had worked at Time magazine, and I worked at People. Over the years, Tony and I would cross paths at People, the ill-fated TV-Cable Week and at Life. Sometimes we were colleagues; sometimes he was my editor and sometimes I was his. We bonded over our marginal Chinese. I suffered his jokes and marveled at his relentless good spirits. We all had kids, and we all grew up together. And the kids are friends, even down to the third generation.
   And even through death and divorce, we have remained family, running up and down the stairs for coffee or a cup of sugar and celebrating holidays together. Tony was staying with Toby, his ex and good friend, when he died. Their daughters, Alexis and Delia, put together a lovely memorial for him. I was hoping he'd be here this Thanksgiving, as he has often been in the past. He would have loved this party, with his favorite Swedish meatballs, sushi, lemon squares, vodka gimlets, etc. So sorry he missed it. 
That's Tony, standing to toast in the back a couple Thanksgivings ago.

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