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May gods confer on you your due rewards, If deities regard the good, if justice And mind aware of right count anywhere. What happy centuries gave birth to you? What splendid parents brought you into being? While rivers run into the sea and shadows Still sweep the mountain slopes and stars still pasture Upon the sky, your name and praise and honor Shall last. Virgil, Aeneid, Book I
It seems inconceivable to think of Allison in the past tense; her death is profoundly shocking, one of those viscerally unacceptable deaths that mark our lives, however distantly or familiarly we knew her. It is, perhaps, all the more shocking because Allison lived so fully, so productively, until the end, never going "gentle into that good night." She bore the last ordeal with characteristic gallantry and never a word of complaint. She died as she lived, with grace and dignity.
Allison Ledes was the editor's editor. She learned early that "In the beginning" is--not was--"the word." That appreciation for the mot juste, as well as for things visual, carried her to the heights of magazine editing. She had a mental toughness, a ...