It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m thinking about a lot of things, with some wistfulness, as we normally do this time of year. I’m thinking of how fortunate I am to be here, at my sister’s home in Denver, in the warmth of her family, with Gaywynn, my girlfriend, all of us happy and healthy. It’s a lovely embrace.
From time to time in the last few days, I’ve been thinking of Kevin Lippert who died March 29 of brain cancer. He was just 63. He was a friend of many years, and I miss him. He left behind two grown sons, Christopher and Cooper, a young daughter, Kate, and his wife, Rachel. There was a very good obituary the New York Times wrote about Kevin that will tell you about how he founded the esteemed Princeton Architectural Press and about his many accomplishments through the years as a publisher and mentor to architects and writers.
I met Kevin about twenty years ago. His older son and my daughter went to the same high school. We met at a parent-teacher conference one evening. I learned he was a publisher, and he learned I was a writer, and we were off. We became friends. Through the years, we would meet for lunch near his offices in the East Village in New York and, in the summer, in Maine where we both escaped for a few weeks each year. It was always a delight to see him.
I’m thinking of Kevin now, because I miss him, and because I’m sure it must be difficult today, and will be tomorrow, for his wife, Rachel and especially for his daughter, Kate, who will be spending her first Christmas without her father.
I’m also thinking about Kevin because he was a man of qualities. He was most generous, and giving, and it seems to me that if this season signifies anything, it should signify good will toward men and women, and no one I’ve ever met embodied good will more than he did. I wish he were here.
Thank you Richard for this nice letter. I have not Kevin but enjoyed reading your words. Always nice reading and well written. Thank you. Joyeux Noel
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. When I feel down, lost, or confused, I wonder what Kevin would do and I am instantly comforted. I miss the calm he could bring, his thoughtfulness, his wisdom. I am so grateful to have known him at all and still get that giddy feeling because he wanted me to be his wife. Kevin’s magic resonates with me. It helps me stay positive. Richard, thank you again for writing this. Love to you.