I remember Leslie telling Leigh and me that he couldn't go camping with us because he might get grass stains on his jeans. And we got him back by throwing a tampon into his hot red Miata convertible as we left the restaurant (it wasn't used!). Actually, he probably got off to that. I remember his crazy story about swimming through the legs of some beautiful nude ladies at a Day of the Dead party. And Wednesday nights Leslie and Freebird hammering out the script (and hammering down the martinis) at Tony Mandola's (Nelson Mandela's) bar. Whatever happened to that script? I remember smoking his Dunhills, even though I don't smoke. I'll miss his witty, insightful, often cutting remarks at discussion groups. I still hear his laugh, I know I'll always hear his laugh. I loved you, Leslie! I will so miss you...
Jana Rosenbaum
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