There are some people who are inspiring and some folks who are inspired. Lawrence H. Cooke was both.

As a jurist, his ability to do the right thing was legendary. And as a simple yet great man, his ability to separate himself from his actions kept him humble, accessible and in the present moment. He was highly motivated by love-for his family, for the law, for people and life in general.

Like many others, I was blessed to be included among his list of friends. I received gifts on holidays, thoughtful remembrances and words of encouragement. I went often to his modest family home on the corner of Broadway and Route 42. I threaded my way past his cluttered dining room table, piled high with books and papers. I offered to help him organize his correspondence. He declined my invitation, saying that his days, because of his health, were unpredictable and sometimes he didn't get moving until noon.

And so I would simply visit and share a bit of myself. One time I brought my hammered dulcimer; another time, I performed a short set on my guitar. I demonstrated to him and Alice how to assemble a hand-bound book and explained how to make felt and spin yarn.

I shared with him my talents as well as my frailties-the difficulty that I had running a newspaper, my insecurities about making my own way in a world of changing values, environmental degradation and social confusion.

He told me stories of mistakes that he had made and said that he had held on to some grudges a little too long. He told me that it was not right to worry. He joked, he consoled and always sent me home with something to share with my son and husband-a bag of apples, oranges sent from Florida, maple syrup, a box of his favorite oatmeal.

After a while the cluttered dining room table was replaced with a hospital bed. There was no mention of answering letters. They were no longer a priority or nagging presence. Lawrence was very sick and very tired in the end.

But even then, he inspired those around him to be true and to be better than they might be, left to their own devices. After my first visit to him following a long hospital stay, I told him I would visit. He said, "Don't tell me that if you are not going to do it." I promised at that point to visit regularly.

I was happy that my weekly visit was on Wednesday last week and that I had the opportunity to say goodbye. He died quietly, surrounded by his loved ones in his home on Thursday.

So now I truly must make my own way. I do not have the physical presence of Lawrence to be inspired by or to inspire. I am hopeful that I will always be able to picture the huge grin that he would have on his face when we were together. But I am left with the certain knowledge that I made an old man happy and that we brightened each other's days and lives.

I sent him and Alice a bar of sage soap for Christmas last year, to honor the wisdom they both portrayed. With his own special brand of humor, Lawrence wrote back thanking me for the pea soup concentrate.

Lawrence Cooke was truly a wonder and a dear friend to us all. I will hold him in my heart always.

Laurie Stuart, Editor