Tribute to Andy
We all have "Andy stories." Whether it was playing poker, hitting the golf course, or sharing a meal, being with Andy meant having a good time. He had this way of making life feel a little brighter just by showing up.
Andy was defined by a rare combination of generosity and humility. I’ll never forget when he first got his condo in North Shore. Without a second thought, he opened his doors to me, my wife, my daughter, and my mother-in-law. That was just who he was—kind, welcoming, and always thinking of others.
But as I look back on our 20-year friendship, one moment stands out above the rest. It was the night we met.
I had just moved to San Jose and my neighbor, Jim, invited me to a poker game in San Mateo. I didn't know a soul there. Then I met Andy. As the night went on, I kept thinking to myself, "Do I know this guy from somewhere?" He was talking to me like we’d known each other for a lifetime.
A lot of people are "friendly," but Andy was different. He would lean in, talk softly, and smile at you in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room—like you were already his best friend. It turned out he had practically grown up in the house next door to mine, but it wasn't the coincidence that stayed with me; it was his spirit. That gentle, friendly way of his completely took me off guard, and I’ve told that story for years because I never wanted to forget how he made me feel that night.
Life can be cruel, and Andy deserved a better hand than he was dealt. But he handled his final chapters with the same class and dignity he showed throughout his life. He fought to the very end with a strength I’m not sure I could ever find in myself.
He leaves behind a legacy of kindness, humbleness, and a beautiful wife who loved him dearly.
Andy, you were one of a kind. Save a seat for me at the table in the big game. I’ll see you again.