My first memory of Cornell was during the summer of 1996, which I spent in New York as an editorial intern. He was like a grandfather to me, doling out cash and wisdom to take with me on my road as an emerging writer and photographer. I remember so clearly our Chinese dinners with his sweet wife, Edie. He said to me, “Life is rich.” It was a simple statement, but somehow he embodied its meaning. Cornell was soulful, passionate, generous, committed and vital. He was instant family, and our brief visits left a lifelong impact on me.
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