It was easy to love George Gershwin, and the love and friendship he aroused in those who knew him paid great rewards. There was nothing so warming as the joy he took in the friendships he made. He was responsive to the affections of his friends in so simple and unaffected a way that even casual and transient meetings with him were enriched into unforgettable moments.
Apart from his genius in music, he had a genius for living. His absorption in music did not keep him from realizing fully all that life had to offer. His hobbies were ennobled and dignified by him above the level of hobby or interest. A visit with him to an art exhibition was a galvanic experience. We would stand quietly enough before the paintings we were watching, but inwardly - and it was George, I am sure, who caused it - we felt we were fellow travelers into the very life of the picture, and partners in the inspiration of the artist who painted it.
George breathed life into everything he did; he made playing with his dog an enviable - lovingly enviable - pastime.
A round of golf with him was full of high excitement.
Parties at his home or the homes of his friends sprang to life with his presence.
All his record-breaking triumphs in the musical world were no greater than the triumphs he won in his everyday life. He took life in his stride - a gay, graceful, youthful stride. All obstacles were conquered by him with gaiety and grace.
I value above all things the memory I have of George. George - high-spirited, almost boyish - simple - unaffected - lovable - and charged with the power to make all things, great and small, absorbing and significant.