I’m pleased to report that, quite by chance, I found myself attending a conference with Gleaves Rhodes, Dusty’s glamorous and spirited widow. We had dinner Friday night and had a good catch-up. It was ten years ago, some of you will recall, that Dusty was stricken with a rare and toxic mix of Parkinson’s and dementia. He was told he had a year, year-and-a-half to live. Dusty being Dusty, he lived until last March, indulging to the end his large appetites for politics, football and classical music. There is no whine whatsoever in Gleaves Rhodes, but you can only imagine what a heavy lift the caregiving has been. The good news is that she has moved back to her beloved Hilton Head and engaged fully with old friends and new enthusiasms. Gleaves reminded me how much Dusty loved his time at NR, and how touched she has been by the outpouring of respect and affection for him. Gleaves is what we throwbacks used to call a class act.