Angeline was one of my dearest friends. She was a rapier wit; a fantastic cook (I’m convinced she never told me EVERY ingredient in her steak marinade); an aunt to my son; a cultural critic at large; and a comically terrible dog trainer. (Winnie never met a person she didn’t try to knock over.) Angeline read everything, which made her a scintillating conversationalist, and she shared my father’s love of debate. She threw herself in the middle of our family discussions with such vim, she just became family. She was hugely original: she could be both delicate and eviscerating in the same moment, and her takes were never canned, they were Dorothy Parker if she’d passed the bar. Angeline had a comedian’s timing and when she held court at dinner (as she often did) she had the room rapt. She loved her people ferociously; she never forgot a birthday, and she made everything An Event. One year Angeline refused to merely cook everyone Christmas dinner, she insisted on attempting the totally impossible turducken recipe that was trending at the time — which of course, she pulled off perfectly, and we have very few photos of us and about a hundred of the turducken. She love-hated the Royal Family. She believed in trying everything on the menu at restaurants she liked. A true New Yorker, she refused to drive, but when I drove her and almost backed into a parking lot wall at The Home Depot and crunched my new car, she HOWLED with laughter and NEVER LET ME FORGET IT. She was there for me every day of the 8 years my dad was sick. She was the truest, funniest, deepest friend/family a person could have, and I am devastated that she is gone. She was the kind of person you move to New York to meet, why you suffer through all its indecencies. She was magic. And I will love her forever.