Last Wednesday I headed to the Bay Area for our conference, Landscapes for Living: Postwar Years in Northern California, and to visit with Larry Halprin. We had planned to have lunch together on Thursday. I imagined us drinking Arnold Palmers together (something he had introduced me to years earlier), he would order dessert which he was not supposed to have, and we would preview edits from the forthcoming oral history project we were doing about him. That evening he took a bad fall and by Sunday morning Halprin would pass away at his home in Kentfield, California, at the age of 93.