I spent two hours with her that day. Open on her coffee table was an article on Hayek, the author lamenting the rampant Keynesianism of the year. We shook our heads about the mess. She didn't seem to realize that I was like a teenager sitting there, all pickled with admiration. Or if she did, she never let on. We sat and ate her favorite San Francisco corned beef. Bob told war stories and Jim Taylor fixed her coffee maker.
She talked a lot about how much she missed her best friend, Milton. I took from her an important lesson that day about the mutualism of marriage. Strange that Rose Friedman taught me how to love my wife more. I owe a tremendous debt to Bob Chitester for these precious hours. We all owe a tremendous debt to Rose Friedman for the freedom we have. RIP Rose.