John: I'm heartbroken by the news of Marjorie's passing. You may remember that I sat next to Marjorie in the newsroom during my brief year back in Boston. I remember the fantastic conversations she would have with writers over the phone, and sometimes in little impromptu meetings: conversations about books, and poetry, and beauty and social topics and big ideas. All of us in international news were tucked away in this little warren of problem management. Conflicts. Famine. Coups. War. Misbehaving correspondents. Crappy leads. Big egos. So having Marjorie in our midst was more than just a breath of fresh air, and sanity. She was a reminder of why we worked for the Monitor: to point toward solutions and positivity and grace, amid the tumult. Another thing struck me. That perpetual vase of fresh flowers. I believe I may have made a comment about it after the 2nd or 3rd week, after it became clear that the first week's flowers weren't just an aberration, like a birthday, an anniversary, a Valentine's Day... I have never in my life seen such a strong statement of joy and support and commitment and love in a relationship as symbolized in that vase of flowers, John. When you and I started singing together, practicing for the gig that didn't happen, I could see that the vase was everywhere. It was present when you talked with Marjorie, when you divided up household duties, when you planned for trips together or gave each other space to do the things that individually brought you joy. And it was present when you shared that joy and love with your family and your friends. If ever there was a couple who lived in the moment, cherished every experience, and expressed love, it was you two. This, this was love. I'm keeping you and Marjorie in my heart today. Scott Baldauf