Some years ago I met Max, his wife Ann, and his daughter Holly many times at the almost annual Christmas parties that their friends, Alice and Robert Couvillion, had at their house. But most recently, when I was a patient in the skilled nursing section of Christwood retirement home, I saw Max there many times a day, confined to a special wheelchair and suffering so badly from his illness. I know from the light in his eyes when I talked to him and patted his hand that he recognized me. I used to play the piano almost every night in the skilled nursing activities room. What flattered me about Max is that sometimes he apparently could hear me from his room across the hall, and struggled with his wheelchair to come in and hear me more closely. My condolences and prayers go out to his daughter, Holly. Richard Moore