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<h1>Remembering Edmund White</h1>
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<p>In the 1970s, Edmund White noted that "everyone slept till noon" in New York, a stark contrast to today's bustling metropolis. Yet, he remained a figure of that era, still finding solace in midday slumber even at 85.</p>
<p>When I emailed or texted him in the morning, I anticipated a response only in the afternoon. This wasn’t a bother though, as our exchanges often revolved around our crushes, literary gossip, and motivational pep talks to keep writing—something Ed never needed encouragement for, given his extensive body of work across 30 books and other writings.</p>
<p>Ed, who passed away in Chelsea on Tuesday evening, fostered similar vibrant connections with many younger gay authors. He inspired countless individuals with his unflinching portrayals of gay life, transcending the literary form to become both explicit and profound. His celebrated novel, <em>A Boy's Own Story</em>, resonated deeply with lonely gay teenagers, yet he humbly engaged with those who admired him, choosing connection over distance. He was always ready to share stories, listen intently, and support his friends without caring for their credentials.</p>
<p>Diagnosed with HIV in 1984, Ed perceived this as a damning prognosis. By then, he had built a prominent career in literature and activism, writing works like <em>The Joy of Gay Sex</em> and co-founding Gay Men's Health Crisis. Instead of succumbing to despair, he produced notable essays and novels about the AIDS crisis, showcasing resilience that astonished many.</p>
<p>He often recounted an interview with Peter Jennings in 1989, where he was asked about his impending mortality. Life was unfaltering for Ed, allowing him to continue producing literature, even living through health challenges—an unwavering force who kept surprising those around him, including his devoted partner, Michael Carroll, who played a crucial role in Ed's enduring vitality.</p>
<p>My introduction to Ed began in the early 2000s through mutual acquaintances, leading to a dinner invitation at his book-laden Chelsea apartment. Ed’s home, filled with literary treasures and personal artifacts, was a welcoming haven where we quickly bonded over shared histories and humor.</p>
<p>As I think of Ed, I picture laughter shared over a dining table, his dedicated gestures towards me reflected in our novels. His gift-giving was uniquely delightful, and our exchanges, often laced with humor, reflected an enduring friendship. Ed remained youthful, ever curious and engaged until the end, embodying a spirit of learning and exploration that many admired. He famously stated that being predictable in friendship was its greatest sin.</p>
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