Wednesday, October 22, 2014
I have nothing but fond fond memories of Dave, as I called him throughout my years growing up when Dave, Valerie and my parents, Sylvia Amato and the late Sol Amato, were just in the first decades of a lifelong friendship. When I was younger, Dave was the most refined adult in my experience, at least in part because of his British accent. He frequently engaged me in discussion about science, engineering, industry, and politics. I was grateful that he would share so much of his experience and knowledge about the way the world worked. And he knew these things because he was a global traveler, another characteristic that amazed me. Most of all, though, I am so grateful for the friendship that Dave shared with my parents. It was a friendship that was so long, so deep and multi-faceted that it surely ascended into the category of love, the kind of love that can only be shared by those who have shared the joys and sorrows of their lifetimes. The conversations that Dave and my dad shared are legendary in family lore. Dave has a secure room in my mansion of memories.
