Joanne Rogers — Mrs. Rogers — died this morning at the age of 92. There was no one else like her, except maybe her husband Fred. 1/
That I had both of them in my life — Fred for four and a half years, Joanne for 22 — is not just one of the great gifts of my life; it is the gift that seems so unaccountable that it is the closest I’ve come to the experience of grace. 2/
The last time I spoke to Joanne was Wednesday, 1/6, after the atrocity at the Capitol; I called to give her comfort but of course I also call to receive comfort in return. And that’s how it always was. 3/
There was nobody else who laughed like Joanne Rogers. There was nobody else who made kindness sound not like a burden but rather like a source of raucous pleasure. 4/
She was truly delightful, in both her capacity for delight and to be delighted, and nobody, not even Fred, was as good at calling out of the blue at the precise moment you needed to hear from her, with the sustenance of surprise. 5/
She was a friend whom I loved and love still. And for the rest of my life I will both miss and draw strength from the fact that she loved me, and thought to tell me so every time we spoke. God bless Mister and Mrs. Rogers, and may the both of them rest in peace. 6/
7. 
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