|In lieu of flowers, JIll Krementz and their daughter Lily Vonnegut would like donations made to The Turtle Bay Association, 224 East 47th Street, New York 10017 (Photograph ©by Jill Krementz)|
So I started reading, and of course I found myself laughing out loud, and finally reveling in the pleasure of pure Vonnegut (who somewhere within is pure me, or something like that).
I had the pleasure of the man’s presence a number times because of his wife who has published some of her compelling photojournals on the NYSD. However, I cannot say I ever really had the pleasure of his company. I found him somewhat intimidating and highly uninterested in me, and so I was both cowed and in awe. This tells you a little more about me than it reveals about him, of course. I could see from observing those whose company he kept that he was as revered and amusing an individual as he was a writer of books.
I should add that despite my own diffidence in his presence, I never wavered from my sense that I was in the presence of a brilliant man, a humanist, an ironist; an artist and a humble giant.