I have been remembering Warren. In all of my memories of him, he is doing something nice for me or for someone else around me. I wanted to just write down a few of these memories.
The first time I met Warren was in Paris, over a decade ago. He came over to Kai's house at Gare de l'Est and made dinner for a few of us down and out Bohemians. I remember how excited he was about the cold cuts he'd found. It was the first time I ever tried okra (fried with a crust of corn flour) and I'm an okra-lover to this day. I remember also that I pulled a piece off off a paper-thin slice of ham, leaving the fatty part on my plate and he insisted something like, "Eat that fat! It cost $60 a pound! And it's the best part!" So true!
Warren gave my son the stuffed monkey that became his first favorite toy.
When we moved to Brooklyn, we came from Paris bringing only what we could carry on the plane. We left all our dishes and kitchen stuff behind. Warren had me over for dinner and when I left his apartment I was carrying half a kitchen's worth of cooking utensils. I still have them. I remember that he had a collection of spatulas and spoons and whisks with easy-grip ergonomic handles for the elderly people he volunteered with. He told me that whenever he saw one on sale, he grabbed it (ever thrifty!) because they were so useful to elderly cooks.
I have more little stories I'd like to write about, and I'll get to them later, but I didn't want to let more time go by without posting something.