Sept 2004. the phone rings, upon answering, all I hear on the other end is a fumbling line and then a clearing of the throat. "Dirk, Dick, Is everything ready for D.C.?" "Yes Dick, no problems" "Great" "How is it going in Texas?" "Wonderful, I really think this project is coming together, can't wait to be in D.C.", "OK, see you soon" "Bye" "Bye".
That's it, the last conversation I had with Dick. Short but sweet, kind of like most of the words we spoke. Dick was in Texas working on a project for the New Yorker, that would become Democracy, the next day he was admitted into the hospital and within a week he would be gone.