Bonnie Brownfield

 I met Willi on the first day of registration as design students at Parsons School of Design—then located in an old factory-like building on East 54th Street. He asked me to lunch, and lunch ran into dinner. From that day on, we shared our lives, loves, families, summer houses on Fire Island, and all the drama through the years. I remember one time in the seventies, Willi was to receive an award from a large retailer in his hometown of Philadelphia. He invited me to go along for support. He rented a limo—Willi did not drive—and on his way to pick me up, he tripped, fell, and sprained his ankle. We spent the whole ride with him laying on my lap and his foot out the open window to keep his ankle from swelling any further. It was hilarious. We laughed the entire ride with me “reading” him the whole time. I loved him. I know he loved me. Friends forever.