My dear, most marvelous, glorious Barbara Cook, who once let me know she enjoyed something I’d written about her.

Oh my dears, it has been a hell of a hard few years on this planet, and the angel voices we have here, so many of them, taking leave. I wish I could believe in that eternal ever-after heaven thing, because, oh my, oh my, oh dears, just imagine if we could spend eternity listening to and watching these three who’ve in the last thirteen months escaped this mess we’re in. So much beauty, so much grace, so much gift. Good god, it’s such a glorious life I’ve led to have been able to share a planet with them.


And Barbara.

And, oh, my dear, my life-changing Barbara.

And then, again, Marin. This. Dear lord. This.

And Barbara, the singing actress, breaking hearts — such vulnerability; I can still recall, a young, young man/boy weeping in the movie theater as she sang this.

And, isn’t that is all that can ever need be said about love and life? Mr. Sondheim and Miss Cook, perfection.

I am so grateful to have these songs, this music, forever. But please, Universe, enough for a while. We need the angels here, now, more than ever.