My uncle Andy was one of the sweetest, most intelligent people I've ever met.  He was at his most patient when explaining to me how we couldn't plan on seeing a Red Sox game in August.  As a Californian, I just didn't understand how we couldn't guarantee seeing them if he had tickets.  His explanation was well crafted and thoughtful: Rain. It sometimes rains here in August. I loved him.

Andy's super-human kindness, knowledge and wisdom made it a privilege for my deceased husband, Bart, and me to talk with him. I miss him.  In quiet moments I will reread The Modern Construction of Myth and keep in touch with him that way.