During the first gathering of freshmen when we came together in Branford College that first September in New Haven I noticed that there was a name after mine in alphabetical order on the class roster.  That was a rarity for me, who had stood at the end of every line ever since I started school. Yale would be different for me because of Stan and I was happy to give up to him the privilege of standing last in line.  It was not the only time our paths crossed during the course of the years that followed: though we were members of different communities and groups at Yale, I was struck over and over again – in the course of conversations I overheard or in which I participated, in gatherings large and small – by how genuine and powerful a presence Stan was: a remarkable mind, talking fast as he always seemed to, mercurial, brilliant, intense, quick and darting, erudite and real.  He would continue to inspire awe and delight today just as he did then and I still remember him walking quickly and thinking deeply at every corner he turned.  I seem to have retaken my accustomed alphabetical position on the changing Branford roster but I wish, for all the right reasons, that Stan still held that ground.

            Jonas Zdanys