My friend, Steve, master classical and flamenco guitarist, good friend in the 60s to Jay and me, died yesterday in a nursing home in California.

I met him in Woodstock when I first visited New York. Eve Paige, wife to Horace Gold (agoraphone who never left his apartment), editor and publisher of Galaxy magazine, invited me to a weekend at their rental on a stream in Woodstock. Steve was another guest that weekend. He liked me but, handsome as he was, I was more attracted to another guest and our flirtation didn't go anywhere.

Not too much later, I moved to New York and met and married Jay in a whirlwind romance. We saw Steve often, since he was a frequent Hydra guest (legendary sci fi club of professionals and their friends). Mary -- I forget now how we met -- was another guest and she and I became fast friends. She was beautiful and six feet tall, as was Steve. We introduced her to Steve. They got married.

They held their wedding reception in their apartment on Charles Street in the village. Every guitarist in New York was there, including Theodore Bikel (who hogged the entertainment limelight and hit on Steve's 18 year old sister). Although other musicians in the room might have felt upstaged, I can tell you I was thrilled to listen to an entire evening of Theo singing his folk songs accompanied by his friend and fellow guitarist, Ray Boguslov. Our wedding present was rocks glasses.

About three years after that wonderful wedding reception, Mary died of an undiagnosed melanoma, and a devastated Steve moved to Sweden to study math. That is as clear a picture of programmed failure as any I have ever encountered. When he got back to the States, he relocated to California and met and married Jinny who is now his widow.

After years of no contact, I reached Steve after Jay's death and we began a conversation via e mail. Steve, who had started out as progressively liberal as anyone, had turned conservative. We had many set-tos over differing political views, but the friendship was strong enough to override them. Then I became aware that Steve had Alzheimers. He was given the latest medication and his e mails picked up speed again.

When I didn't hear from him for several months, I called Jinny and she told me that he had suffered a stroke and was in a nursing home. The end, I could tell, was near.

And when I got on to Facebook yesterday, a sister I had come to know through e mails, had posted the news that he had died.

So this is a reminiscence of a wonderful friend, musician, sharer of young memories. Ah, Steve, I will miss you.

Also of interest, perhaps, is Claire Turlay Newberry -- a renown artist of ... cats. Google her for images of her art. She was his mother.

xx, Teal