Letter from Matt Winn

Somewhere, there is a copy of a picture of Anton arms raised to the sky with a broad smile across his face. Anton is covered with confetti, laughing that chesty laugh, and wondering what the hell is happening. That picture of Anton's return home from Europe is more than a memory; to me, it is the essence of Anton.

My relationship with Anton is something that transcends specifics. From the day we met in the "Love Pit," a depression in the middle of a quadrangle at St. Johns to the last time I saw him New Years, Eve 1994 in New York, our lives were linked. I am not sure whose stories are whose anymore. Everything that happened to one of us during that last semester of high school happened to all of us. There was Anton's, three-day birthday party and there were late night drives to Two Pesos; but, most of all what I remember about Anton was the time we spent hanging out. It was a privileged existence that I can only describe as my youth.

Since the last time I saw Anton, my life has changed. I am married and I have a career. Part of me, however, will always be the same young man--thanks to Anton--who is waiting for the next party to begin.

Matt Winn