I never met him. Our houses opened onto different streets, but from my balcony I actually could, as the saying goes, hit his home with a rock. In fact, as the rock flies, he was one of my closest neighbors. From time to time, my wife and I would hear snatches of not-quite-intelligible conversation as he and his family came and went — stray pieces of what unfortunately turned out to be the last days of his life.
I did meet his wife once, briefly, at a neighborhood potluck. She’d brought two huge serving trays of lasagna: by far the biggest and most popular contribution. She seemed nice in the way that strangers who bathe and speak rationally and bring you lasagna seem nice. For all I knew, she could have been a Satanist or a cannibal or — worse — a bagpipe aficionado, but none of that seemed likely. At one point, I had thought I’d heard bagpipes over there, but maybe someone had simply stepped on a cat.
Like everyone in town, I’d eaten at their restaurant, Arnoldi’s. Good, solid Italian food, reasonable prices. The place had a warm, friendly feel to it. Nasty people don’t run friendly businesses. If you’re the CEO of Cox Cable or B of A, I’m not saying those companies are your fault — but actually, they pretty much are.