Richard Ford

Julie was a person who, when you met her, instantly made you think, "Gee, where did you come from?  You're wonderful."   She was close-in, she was interested (or was good at seeming interested) in whoever it was.  She talked to you like not only she'd known you for decades, but got you.  Okay, that's flattering, and it's about me, me, me.  But it quickly became about her, her, her -- in the best possible way.. She wasn't flirtatious -- well, not so's you'd think anything.  But she glowed, she presented a determined denseness and clarity and sincerity of personage, a likeable, appealing human right in front of you, who was unquestionably serious about what she was doing and thought was important -- and this was what seriousness looked like.  Even when she left it all behind.  That added something -- a sense that she knew herself.  Which made all of us who were lucky enough to know her like and cherish her, immensely, even if we had to admit we could never got to see her enough.  There was always much more to Julie than you could avail.  My joy was just to talk to her -- on the phone, even.  It made me feel the same "great" -- that she was and she was there.  She portrayed Julie --  who she really was, even from far away -- as vividly and as thoroughly as anybody I've ever known.  I can't believe I won't talk to her (in person, at least) again.   RF   

Richard Ford, Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist, author of The Sportswriter, Independence Day and The Lay of The Land