Passion and rigor. Such rarities. And, in synchronous combination, almost singular. Mr. Stephen Sondheim, a (THE?) hero of our art form, made his art driven by, seemingly in equal measure, both passion and rigor. Divinely inspired in plumbing the depths of the human condition. Yet unwaveringly exacting in the execution of his craft. How can one be so very much both these things? There was, has been and will be no other. I cry when I listen to “Finishing The Hat” or “Being Alive” because, well, I don’t know exactly. But I think it’s because I can feel the human heart (and brilliant mind) behind these words and this music wrestling with the pursuit of perfection, with true happiness and what it really is, with wholeness and how we achieve it (or don’t), with humanity, with existence itself. Sondheim’s songs make us feel known, feel recognized in this world. And so through them we feel bizarrely and overwhelmingly...loved. His music makes us feel loved. Capturing the uncapturable. Putting down into dots and rhythms and syllables the most profound and existential and profane and unfathomable emotions we experience in our daily, tiny, heartbreaking, glorious moments. In one of my last correspondences with our hero, I mentioned to him this feeling that I had, and that I still couldn’t get through “Finishing The Hat” without weeping over how beautifully he captured our asymptotic (s/o to high school math teachers) attempt to achieve artistic perfection. His response was perfect. And, in his typically generous spirit, just like he did with every note he wrote, he made me feel loved. And known. And I got to tell him that his marvelous and sharp and quirky response made my day, week, month, my year, my life. And I meant it. Thank you for teaching me the power of song, the power it has to uncover our deepest fears and shine a light on our most miserable thoughts and to lift us up to the heavens and to underscore unimaginable moments of glory, of loss, of beauty, of hope. Thank you for the music that quite literally got me through high school, that showed me what to do with my life, that spurs and challenges me daily. Thank you for passion and rigor. Rest well, sir.