Although my wife and I had
briefly met Sid and Jackie Mintz some years ago, we did not really get to know
them and become friends until we arrived at about the same time at Broadmead, a
retirement community. Sid was 90. I was 76. We hit it off, as I expect he
did with scores of people he befriended. He was a giver, and a particularly
revered figure at Broadmead, offering several highly appreciated lectures
during his time in the community. Sid and I traded goofy e-mails and exchanged
ideas about interesting things to read. His playfulness, his endless store of
stories that fit almost any topic—typically making fun of Jews—his good sense,
his keen appreciation of fine food and drink, his delight in the world, was a
joy to behold. I miss him.
