Last weekend we marked the one-year anniversary of my uncle Irv's death. Like many people who died early in the pandemic, it's hard to say concretely that he died of COVID.

We can say that he died in isolation, and that we could not mourn together.

Today I thought I would share a little more about him, to add his story to the millions that we are seeing from around the world.

Here he is with my uncle mark (left) and my grandpa (center) at what I think was my parents' wedding party?

Irv was a poet and a lifelong learner. Well into his 80s, he enrolled in classes at CUNY and attended the socialist reading group he founded decades before.

Most importantly, Irv was actually so funny. Like, constant laughing out loud. Here's a poem he wrote a few years ago.

Yes, he lived in New York.

Some of the poems in Irv's last book, A Jaundiced Eye, are about how social media is dumb. He probably wouldn't have loved this thread. Sorry Irv!

But a lot more are about aging in death. So it only seems right to let Irv has the last word in this thread.