I last saw Adam at the Putney School, where we graduated in 1968. I am saddened to learn of his passing, but in reading just a few posts it is obvious he crammed several lifetimes into 56 years.
The story I want to contribute involves my desperate attempt to avoid going home for spring vacation of my senior year. I was doing everything I could to remain close to Marney Lindsay, with whom I believed I was in love. To remain in New York meant I had to impose on the kindness of several classmates, one of whom was Adam. He showed me a great time by hanging out with me, somehow getting us dinner at the Harvard Club of NYC with a friend of his family and then scoring comp tickets from the same friend for us to see "Rosencrantz and Gilderstern are Dead" on Broadway.
My love affair with Marney cooled off, though I am happy to say we are great friends many years later.
Adam will live on as an edgy, funny and respectful friend in my memory.
Dan Smith
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
from Fam Bayless
So sorry to hear the news - its hard to loose a sibling at any time but doubly so when its much too early. The obit was quite wonderful & good to read about his many contributions to San Francisco life & culture .
My condolences to all the family.
Love, Fam
My condolences to all the family.
Love, Fam
Friday, February 15, 2008
from D'Arcy Hyde
I feel so fortunate to have been able to meet a person such as Adam. They broke the mold after him for sure. Watching Adam interact with his family and especially Kenan was a exceptionally entertaining and unforgettable experience-none would disagree. I so clearly remember what it felt like to be in the room when Kenan and Adam would take a stroll down memory lane of some of the greatest shared family adventures. They would bring the room to tears with screams of laughter. In the end, our stories and our adventures is really all we have. Adam had enough for us all. His presence will be greatly missed.
xo
xo
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
from Catherine Kae
To begin to remember my time and relationship with Adam is to open a floodgate of memories. From the many years of our close friendship, to later times, when our different choices took us to separate locations and experiences, there was an underground river of love and affection, and a dose of amusement, that carried our relationship along.
I met Adam in horseback riding class, during his freshman year at Reed. It was our PE class. We become friends, shared laughs and parties, occasional annoyances, and then became even closer friends as a few years went by and we had bigger parties to attend, politics to shake heads about, and relationship problems, seemingly endless, to discuss. Then there would be the times of bandaging wounds, eating dinners at well reviewed restaurants, or decent bargains, and even living as roommates (with the help of a contract and a housekeeper).
Adam specialized in fun and information. His energy was contagious and bubbling (often doubtless fueled by numerous chemicals). He loved the world of stars, both music and writing. He also had a beautiful and inspiring knack for making his new friends and boyfriends feel like stars. He loved that way, at least for the first three months. What a gift he gave to a number of people. Adam was usually so generous, with a great sense of abundance around him. Ok, so it would also be filthy abundance sometimes. Yes he was messy and so irascible and confessed to being full of fears at the end. Who wouldn't be full of fears facing all of this...
Toward the end, I was struck, by the kind of aura he developed in his well used grease-rimmed Stetson. Some of his own star quality emerged. He looked like an aging and ill version of someone you should recognize. Heads would turn. Well after all, his life was his art. Beyond fears, I am sure he will be partying again soon. When I feel sad at his departure and sad at his suffering, I remember his incredible strength of body, and spirit and send my love.
-Catherine K
I met Adam in horseback riding class, during his freshman year at Reed. It was our PE class. We become friends, shared laughs and parties, occasional annoyances, and then became even closer friends as a few years went by and we had bigger parties to attend, politics to shake heads about, and relationship problems, seemingly endless, to discuss. Then there would be the times of bandaging wounds, eating dinners at well reviewed restaurants, or decent bargains, and even living as roommates (with the help of a contract and a housekeeper).
Adam specialized in fun and information. His energy was contagious and bubbling (often doubtless fueled by numerous chemicals). He loved the world of stars, both music and writing. He also had a beautiful and inspiring knack for making his new friends and boyfriends feel like stars. He loved that way, at least for the first three months. What a gift he gave to a number of people. Adam was usually so generous, with a great sense of abundance around him. Ok, so it would also be filthy abundance sometimes. Yes he was messy and so irascible and confessed to being full of fears at the end. Who wouldn't be full of fears facing all of this...
Toward the end, I was struck, by the kind of aura he developed in his well used grease-rimmed Stetson. Some of his own star quality emerged. He looked like an aging and ill version of someone you should recognize. Heads would turn. Well after all, his life was his art. Beyond fears, I am sure he will be partying again soon. When I feel sad at his departure and sad at his suffering, I remember his incredible strength of body, and spirit and send my love.
-Catherine K
Monday, February 11, 2008
from Farrell Ingle
There are many reasons for my existence. It can be traced back to my parents (obviously), to their meeting at the Block house so many years ago. It could be said that they were simply meant to be together and that it was in the cards that I'd come strutting into existence in the autumn of 1985. But I've always believed--and always told anyone who asks how my parents met--that my uncle Adam was the sole reason. He was my dad's best friend, my mom's step-brother. If it wasn't for him I might not be here.
Many beautiful things have been written about Adam over the past few weeks and I have found myself thinking what I could add. I figured that giving him the props he deserved for being that cog, that enzyme, that electric jolt that brought me into this world was worthy of what has been written over the past days. As I thought about what an integral part Adam played in my life I found myself recounting the many lucky instances in which our paths crossed. And while I probably never knew Adam in the same way many others have, my encounters with him have always been memorable.
I remember early visits to his epically dirty apartment where CNN was always on, the stove hadn't been cleaned since the 70s, newspapers and magazines were stacked to the ceiling, and bottles of balsamic vinegar lay on the counter with a price tag higher than my young mind could fathom. Adam was quick to offer me a taste as I gazed upon the red waxy corks and the ornate labels. I remember exploring North Beach with my father and Adam at a pace not even a spry teenager could keep, trying to munch down deliciously oily focaccia and trot along behind at the same time. I remember travelling to the Chinese herbal remedy store when mom and I visited and having lizard on a stick waved in my face when I was barely tall enough to see over the counter. I remember really wanting one.
It is interesting how our memory works. As I think back, I have trouble remembering which memory goes where chronologically or even who I was with (mother or father) when Adam told a magical story that I treasure still. But in the end the only truth is that these are memories that will stick in my mind forever, no matter how mashed up dates, times, and witnesses become.
I think everyone who knew him (or even encountered him only once) would quickly agree that Adam was, if anything, memorable. He made his presence known with a glow and effervescence that I will probably never encounter again. I will certainly miss him, but look forward to sharing stories about my uncle Adam with all those who knew and loved him. God knows there are plenty.
And when my kids ask me how my parents met, I'll know exactly what to say. Rest in peace Adam, you will not be forgotten.
Farrell
Many beautiful things have been written about Adam over the past few weeks and I have found myself thinking what I could add. I figured that giving him the props he deserved for being that cog, that enzyme, that electric jolt that brought me into this world was worthy of what has been written over the past days. As I thought about what an integral part Adam played in my life I found myself recounting the many lucky instances in which our paths crossed. And while I probably never knew Adam in the same way many others have, my encounters with him have always been memorable.
I remember early visits to his epically dirty apartment where CNN was always on, the stove hadn't been cleaned since the 70s, newspapers and magazines were stacked to the ceiling, and bottles of balsamic vinegar lay on the counter with a price tag higher than my young mind could fathom. Adam was quick to offer me a taste as I gazed upon the red waxy corks and the ornate labels. I remember exploring North Beach with my father and Adam at a pace not even a spry teenager could keep, trying to munch down deliciously oily focaccia and trot along behind at the same time. I remember travelling to the Chinese herbal remedy store when mom and I visited and having lizard on a stick waved in my face when I was barely tall enough to see over the counter. I remember really wanting one.
It is interesting how our memory works. As I think back, I have trouble remembering which memory goes where chronologically or even who I was with (mother or father) when Adam told a magical story that I treasure still. But in the end the only truth is that these are memories that will stick in my mind forever, no matter how mashed up dates, times, and witnesses become.
I think everyone who knew him (or even encountered him only once) would quickly agree that Adam was, if anything, memorable. He made his presence known with a glow and effervescence that I will probably never encounter again. I will certainly miss him, but look forward to sharing stories about my uncle Adam with all those who knew and loved him. God knows there are plenty.
And when my kids ask me how my parents met, I'll know exactly what to say. Rest in peace Adam, you will not be forgotten.
Farrell
Sunday, February 10, 2008
from Schuyler Ingle
Thirty years ago, maybe more, Adam would often visit in Los Angeles. He knew he could count on a room and a bed, rides hither and yon for God knows what assignations, food and drink and good company. This was long enough ago that Thai food was a new and charming evening out. Can you imagine?
I remember one such dinner with Adam at a small, new Thai restaurant in that Los Angeles gulley between Silver Lake and Los Angeles City College. The place was packed. There were enough of us in our party that several tables were set end to end to accommodate a grand banquet. I believe this was my first taste of Larb Gai. I don't recall how the story began, or why, but at some point during the meal Adam started in on a tale from his school days at Putney, the Vermont farm and prep boarding school to which the elites sent their children to be educated and to work the soil. Adam sat at the head of the tables and within a few words or sentences held our complete attention.
It was a story about a small cadre of miscreants sneaking smokes (his brand of choice would have been Larks back then) and listening to 45s on a portable turntable, both illicit adventures at Putney. He made real the peculiar world of boarding school, where you are liberated from parents only to be held prisoner by adults often less intelligent than you are. A German task master, both despised and imitated by the students, figured in the story. This particular teacher would ever extol the virtues of potatoes, and it was at the potato storage bin that the naughty ones would gather to smoke and gossip and bathe in rock and roll. Adam being Adam, there would have been a digression at this point in the story to explain the enduring virtue and importance of Paul Revere and the Raiders. The kids hated potatoes because they had to dig potatoes, a very simple quid pro quo. So you can imagine where they pissed when they needed to. The punch line, of course, is the German at dinner in the dining hall spearing a potato with his fork and holding it aloft to sing its praises and encourage the reluctant to dig in.
It was a simple story, really, but Adam told it with absolute control and authority, knowing from the first word where he was headed, laying down layers of detail and nuance exactly where they were needed, never overloading any one element, never exhausting either the tale or the audience, letting the laugh lines emerge without any effort or artifice. He spoke in perfectly parsed sentences, a magnificent flow of language. The story went on and on and on and we all sat there, hanging on every word. And when he finished the tale, holding aloft an imaginary pissed on potato and praising it in a thick German accent, we all erupted with cheers and laughter and applause. And much to our surprise, so too did the entire restaurant. Every table had fallen silent to hear the tale, to feel the magic. Adam lifted his Singha to toast the room, making what had transpired seem a simple, almost insignificant thing.
I remember one such dinner with Adam at a small, new Thai restaurant in that Los Angeles gulley between Silver Lake and Los Angeles City College. The place was packed. There were enough of us in our party that several tables were set end to end to accommodate a grand banquet. I believe this was my first taste of Larb Gai. I don't recall how the story began, or why, but at some point during the meal Adam started in on a tale from his school days at Putney, the Vermont farm and prep boarding school to which the elites sent their children to be educated and to work the soil. Adam sat at the head of the tables and within a few words or sentences held our complete attention.
It was a story about a small cadre of miscreants sneaking smokes (his brand of choice would have been Larks back then) and listening to 45s on a portable turntable, both illicit adventures at Putney. He made real the peculiar world of boarding school, where you are liberated from parents only to be held prisoner by adults often less intelligent than you are. A German task master, both despised and imitated by the students, figured in the story. This particular teacher would ever extol the virtues of potatoes, and it was at the potato storage bin that the naughty ones would gather to smoke and gossip and bathe in rock and roll. Adam being Adam, there would have been a digression at this point in the story to explain the enduring virtue and importance of Paul Revere and the Raiders. The kids hated potatoes because they had to dig potatoes, a very simple quid pro quo. So you can imagine where they pissed when they needed to. The punch line, of course, is the German at dinner in the dining hall spearing a potato with his fork and holding it aloft to sing its praises and encourage the reluctant to dig in.
It was a simple story, really, but Adam told it with absolute control and authority, knowing from the first word where he was headed, laying down layers of detail and nuance exactly where they were needed, never overloading any one element, never exhausting either the tale or the audience, letting the laugh lines emerge without any effort or artifice. He spoke in perfectly parsed sentences, a magnificent flow of language. The story went on and on and on and we all sat there, hanging on every word. And when he finished the tale, holding aloft an imaginary pissed on potato and praising it in a thick German accent, we all erupted with cheers and laughter and applause. And much to our surprise, so too did the entire restaurant. Every table had fallen silent to hear the tale, to feel the magic. Adam lifted his Singha to toast the room, making what had transpired seem a simple, almost insignificant thing.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
from Ellen Jenkins - San Francisco
I was dismayed to see Adam's picture while glancing through the paper last Sunday. I only knew Adam a little bit - through his roommate, over twenty years ago - but I remember him clearly and liked him very much. He was eccentric, funny and fearless. I'll never forget his practice of drying his hair over an open oven turned up full blast, his Grace Jones posters, his many waist-high stacks of reading material, his fondness for Zippy the Pinhead. And I remember Adam liked to argue, but in a good, teasing way. I was in my twenties and fairly new to the City and thought he was one of the most fascinating people I'd ever met...I also remember going to a Bob Dylan concert in Berkeley with Adam and his brother Kenan....
Ellen Jenkins
note: For more information on Zippy find link at right side of Blog above photos.
Ellen Jenkins
note: For more information on Zippy find link at right side of Blog above photos.
from Dr. Jay Lalezari
I'm not sure it makes any difference, but Adam didn't die of AIDS.
I believe HIV regretted the day it ever met Adam.
That's one battle the virus never won.
Jay
I believe HIV regretted the day it ever met Adam.
That's one battle the virus never won.
Jay
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
from R.M Campell - Seattle
Adam Block was a life force, with wit, style, personality.
He copied no one because he was so singular himself, in attitude and manner. Nearly everything he did he did with all the intelligence at his disposal, which was considerable. He used those brains to give spark to his opinions, which were sometimes based on nothing but his own quirky taste. He was fast-talking, fast-living, vastly amusing, sometimes vastly egocentric, sweeping through life as if it were his oyster. On occasion it was.
Ideas flowed out of him, often in rapid succession. Although I don't think he ever took up debate, in a formal sense, he would have excelled in it because he could take any idea, no matter how far-fetched, and give it credence, if only on a superficial level.
To spend an evening with Adam in San Francisco was always a cornucopia of events and people. It would begin at his North Beach apartment, filled with a horrific clutter of magazines, newspapers and books plus yesterday's garbage and laundry and dirty dishes. Tidiness was not one of Adam's priorities. There would always be drinks and perhaps other amusements, then out the door for another drink with friends or acquaintances, or even someone on the street, then maybe a cocktail party, a stop at a shop, dinner, a concert, a movie, ending up in a bar somewhere in town. One could check out any moment. He would not be offended, wishing you the best and moving on with his own agenda for the night.
He could be difficult and irritating but inevitably memorable. His hard last days would have been even more dire without the steady love and care of his brother Kenan.
R.M Campell
He copied no one because he was so singular himself, in attitude and manner. Nearly everything he did he did with all the intelligence at his disposal, which was considerable. He used those brains to give spark to his opinions, which were sometimes based on nothing but his own quirky taste. He was fast-talking, fast-living, vastly amusing, sometimes vastly egocentric, sweeping through life as if it were his oyster. On occasion it was.
Ideas flowed out of him, often in rapid succession. Although I don't think he ever took up debate, in a formal sense, he would have excelled in it because he could take any idea, no matter how far-fetched, and give it credence, if only on a superficial level.
To spend an evening with Adam in San Francisco was always a cornucopia of events and people. It would begin at his North Beach apartment, filled with a horrific clutter of magazines, newspapers and books plus yesterday's garbage and laundry and dirty dishes. Tidiness was not one of Adam's priorities. There would always be drinks and perhaps other amusements, then out the door for another drink with friends or acquaintances, or even someone on the street, then maybe a cocktail party, a stop at a shop, dinner, a concert, a movie, ending up in a bar somewhere in town. One could check out any moment. He would not be offended, wishing you the best and moving on with his own agenda for the night.
He could be difficult and irritating but inevitably memorable. His hard last days would have been even more dire without the steady love and care of his brother Kenan.
R.M Campell
from James Grauerholz - Lawrence, Kansas
I knew Adam almost 34 years, I loved him, I will miss him.
I've been writing at some reminiscences for the memorial blog. He was one of a kind. If only he had written (and left to us) more about his own life, and less (as he called it) "fishwrap" ... But as he'd say, "it's been a hell of an edumacation, darlin'."
James Grauerholz
I've been writing at some reminiscences for the memorial blog. He was one of a kind. If only he had written (and left to us) more about his own life, and less (as he called it) "fishwrap" ... But as he'd say, "it's been a hell of an edumacation, darlin'."
James Grauerholz
from Vicki Topaz - San Francisco
Although I only knew Adam for a relatively short while, he touched me deeply with his unending enthusiasm, vitality, and courage--we always had a good giggle together. He was at our home a few times for various parties and one small dinner party where we probably engaged in our longest discussions. Truly a joy!
I hope you are recuperating from this tremendous loss. It is fortunate for Adam that he was able choose a departure date (which I believe he did) but so difficult for all of us to mend the gap.
Wishing you well.
Warm regards,
Vicki Topaz
I hope you are recuperating from this tremendous loss. It is fortunate for Adam that he was able choose a departure date (which I believe he did) but so difficult for all of us to mend the gap.
Wishing you well.
Warm regards,
Vicki Topaz
from Marianne Painter
I am so sorry to hear about Adam.
Reading the blog was really great. I only met him once at Tamara and Schuyler's--but I have to say, he made quite an impression. Who could ask for more?
Cheers--Marianne
Reading the blog was really great. I only met him once at Tamara and Schuyler's--but I have to say, he made quite an impression. Who could ask for more?
Cheers--Marianne
from Bob and Lynn Stevens - Seattle
We are so very sorry over the loss of Adam.
Like the rest of his extraordinary family, Adam has left his mark. I remember so well, lunching with your father after he was confined to his bed. He was so very proud of all his childeren and he never tired of sharing stories of their latest achievements.
This world and it's people are better for having shared some time with the Block boys.
God bless!
Bob and Lynn Stevens
Like the rest of his extraordinary family, Adam has left his mark. I remember so well, lunching with your father after he was confined to his bed. He was so very proud of all his childeren and he never tired of sharing stories of their latest achievements.
This world and it's people are better for having shared some time with the Block boys.
God bless!
Bob and Lynn Stevens
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
from Libby Burke and Brad Robison (Pahoa, HI)
February 5, 2008
Aloha Daniel, Kenan and Susanna from Libby Burke & Brad Robison (together 10 years and living on the Big Island of Hawai'i)
We heard from Jay Robison the news about Adam from the Seattle Times. We deeply feel your loss. We each have our own memories of Adam when we were at Hidden Valley Camp together; I (Libby) remember him as a good friend and intellectual playmate--someone I looked up to and relied upon to keep things interesting. I'll always appreciate that he turned me on to Kurt Vonnegut one Rainy Day in the Lodge.
Our thoughts and prayers are with you and all the family.
Aloha nui, Libby & Brad
Aloha Daniel, Kenan and Susanna from Libby Burke & Brad Robison (together 10 years and living on the Big Island of Hawai'i)
We heard from Jay Robison the news about Adam from the Seattle Times. We deeply feel your loss. We each have our own memories of Adam when we were at Hidden Valley Camp together; I (Libby) remember him as a good friend and intellectual playmate--someone I looked up to and relied upon to keep things interesting. I'll always appreciate that he turned me on to Kurt Vonnegut one Rainy Day in the Lodge.
Our thoughts and prayers are with you and all the family.
Aloha nui, Libby & Brad
from Rusty Hyde
Nobody who ever met Adam could forget having done so. I just related to Jan the moment at your wedding when you and Kristin did the little wine toast in that lovely outdoor setting, and after you handed your glass to Adam, he took a good look at it and with a notable flourish downed the remaining contents. He was the definition of individuality, and, yes, he had a hell of a run.
Condolences,
Rusty
Condolences,
Rusty
from Lisa Pious
I was so sorry to hear about Adam. I only knew him vaguely through my Hidden Valley Camp friendship with Susanna some 40 years ago, but remember thinking at the time that he was a bright light.
I inherited an amazing stamp collection from one of Susanna's older brothers, possibly Adam... I had no idea we were across-the-bay neighbors for the last 30 years.
My condolences to all of you -
- Lisa Pious
I inherited an amazing stamp collection from one of Susanna's older brothers, possibly Adam... I had no idea we were across-the-bay neighbors for the last 30 years.
My condolences to all of you -
- Lisa Pious
Article by Don Baird
The Passing of Adam Block By Don Baird Published: January 31, 2008
Just before press time early Sunday, I received the very sad news that my friend and colleague Adam Block had died peacefully in his sleep at home in the company of his brother Kenan, after suffering a lengthy respiratory ailment and other complications due to AIDS. It feels strange to say it, those four big letters, but I remember about 23 years ago I eulogized a popular local performer when he succumbed to AIDS. I never got around to revealing the cause of his death because it just felt so extreme to say back then, and that performer wasn’t gay. I felt very conflicted about telling the world that he fell victim to the relatively new killer disease that was starting to decimate the gay community. ........
THE FULL ARTICLE CAN BE FOUND ON
http://www.sfbaytimes.com/index.php?sec=article&article_id=7464
Just before press time early Sunday, I received the very sad news that my friend and colleague Adam Block had died peacefully in his sleep at home in the company of his brother Kenan, after suffering a lengthy respiratory ailment and other complications due to AIDS. It feels strange to say it, those four big letters, but I remember about 23 years ago I eulogized a popular local performer when he succumbed to AIDS. I never got around to revealing the cause of his death because it just felt so extreme to say back then, and that performer wasn’t gay. I felt very conflicted about telling the world that he fell victim to the relatively new killer disease that was starting to decimate the gay community. ........
THE FULL ARTICLE CAN BE FOUND ON
http://www.sfbaytimes.com/index.php?sec=article&article_id=7464
from Alan and Mary Morgan
Alan and I were saddened to hear of Adam's passing and we send our condolences to the entire family.
We first met Adam at one of those stimulating, contentious and entertaining dinners at East Boston Terrace, that particular one punctuated (not unusually) by your father thumping his fist on the table and Adam storming out of the room. We thought it was just part of the Block family dynamic - no one seemed to take it very seriously.
We've seen Adam just a few times over the past years including one memorable encounter at Bay Meadows when the Gremlin was running - Adam certainly livened up the day! There are some wonderful messages on the web-site that pay homage to Adam. I'm sure everyone will miss his unique personality.
Sincerely
Mary Morgan
We first met Adam at one of those stimulating, contentious and entertaining dinners at East Boston Terrace, that particular one punctuated (not unusually) by your father thumping his fist on the table and Adam storming out of the room. We thought it was just part of the Block family dynamic - no one seemed to take it very seriously.
We've seen Adam just a few times over the past years including one memorable encounter at Bay Meadows when the Gremlin was running - Adam certainly livened up the day! There are some wonderful messages on the web-site that pay homage to Adam. I'm sure everyone will miss his unique personality.
Sincerely
Mary Morgan
from Annie Janowitz
I first met Adam in 1971 at Reed College, and met up with him again in the1980s when he lived across the street from Wyatt Landesman's Post CardStore, where I slept in the upstairs store-room and wrote my phd dissertation.
Adam was someone who opened up the world to me by teaching me about wit and literate conversation. I was working at city lights and he was living in the art gallery run by his friend Steve ??? Who was also a Reedie. Adam was one of the original postcard people -- he had beautiful spindlyhandwriting and his cards were always funny.
He stayed for a month or so with my family in NYC when he was on his way to London sometime in the mid1970s. Adam was a model of how to find pleasure and delight in the world. I adored him.
My deepest condolences to his family and his friends.
Annie Janowitz
Adam was someone who opened up the world to me by teaching me about wit and literate conversation. I was working at city lights and he was living in the art gallery run by his friend Steve ??? Who was also a Reedie. Adam was one of the original postcard people -- he had beautiful spindlyhandwriting and his cards were always funny.
He stayed for a month or so with my family in NYC when he was on his way to London sometime in the mid1970s. Adam was a model of how to find pleasure and delight in the world. I adored him.
My deepest condolences to his family and his friends.
Annie Janowitz
Monday, February 4, 2008
from Lilly Gershuny - Uncle Noel's Sister
Just got the message from Skip on the demise of Adam. Sad it is and I hope he didn't suffer too much before closing his eyes. Met him only once but always had the impression that he was too smart and witty for his own good. I read a few of his writings and they were, indeed, superb. My deep condolences to all of the family,
Lilly
Lilly
from Jessica Chereskin
My deepest sympathies to you and your family on Adam's death. I couldn't get up the courage to visit him after he returned to his SF apartment, but he was frequently in my thoughts. Reading the postings on the memorial blog reminded me how diverse, devoted and perceptive are his many friends. His spirit was unique and he will be missed.
Jessica
Jessica
from Brian Wishnefsky
I have known Adam for approximately 22 years. I met
him thru my friend Marc. I always got a kick out of
running into Adam at the Bars. He always called me by
my last name. I remember seeing him at a bar when I
was smoking a Meerschaum "Sherlock Holmes" pipe, he
walked up to me and said: I see you're working on a
case.
I visited him a couple times recently when he was in
San Leandro. He kept mentioning he was craving Tacos and I brought him some.
I really liked Adam but as you can tell we were basically acquaintances.
I just found out Adam attended Cal Arts so did I 1974 thru 1976.
If anyone out there knows when Adam was at Cal Arts
I'd appreciate hearing from you.
him thru my friend Marc. I always got a kick out of
running into Adam at the Bars. He always called me by
my last name. I remember seeing him at a bar when I
was smoking a Meerschaum "Sherlock Holmes" pipe, he
walked up to me and said: I see you're working on a
case.
I visited him a couple times recently when he was in
San Leandro. He kept mentioning he was craving Tacos and I brought him some.
I really liked Adam but as you can tell we were basically acquaintances.
I just found out Adam attended Cal Arts so did I 1974 thru 1976.
If anyone out there knows when Adam was at Cal Arts
I'd appreciate hearing from you.
from Lisa Pelly
As I read through these remembrances it brings back wonderful memories of 1617 and wandering around Seattle with Adam. Adam, as all have testified, was a remarkable person, like no other.... I can't wait for all of the stories on March 6th.
Love to all the Blocks.
Lisa
Love to all the Blocks.
Lisa
from Tony Apostolakos
I have just learned of your brother's passing and I would like to express my condolensces to you and your family.
Regards,
Tony Apostolakos
U.S. Director
Masi Agricola
Regards,
Tony Apostolakos
U.S. Director
Masi Agricola
from Georgia Galvin (Kathy Block's Sister)
I remember meeting Adam in Seattle when I came to visit you in Portland when I was 13. I thought he was so thrilling. I always had a soft spot for him.
... I'm glad Adam didn't have to make a last trip up here if he wanted to die at home. I sort of thought he'd just go on and on. I'm sorry for this loss.
Love,
Georgia
... I'm glad Adam didn't have to make a last trip up here if he wanted to die at home. I sort of thought he'd just go on and on. I'm sorry for this loss.
Love,
Georgia
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