....was like the recurring scene in "Get Smart" where Max would find one of his fellow secret agents embedded in a tree or a piece of machinery, just waiting and watching, and the two agents would start a deadpan conversation as if there nothing was out of the ordinary, usually trading absurd observations about the universe, gossip about other agents, complaints about Control, and then crucially important information about an ongoing case.
I'm not sure in this scenario if Don was Max or the embedded agent. I suppose we traded roles.
How I loved running into him. And the ridiculously long, generous conversations, standing always in the wrong place. I blame Don for setting back the completion of my dissertation at least 1 month (or maybe it was a year....or two). I'm not sure that we ever met by appointment even once. It was always in the fishbowl, the history grad lounge, espresso royale, a random spot on W. Liberty where one of us was trudging west and one of us east, the halls of some gawdaful hotel at a conference somewhere.
It will be hard to get over the sense that I will run into him eventually.
My condolences to everyone touched by him over the years.
- Warren
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