So I wrote some words for NOW about Jonathan Demme, whose death this morning landed like a hammer on the film community. Yeah, he was 73 but he always seemed far more youthful — boyish, even — and though he was ailing you’d never have known it from his work or his public appearances.

I only met Demme once, but he was exactly as advertised — generous with his time, gracious to a fault, utterly at ease with himself and less interested in hitting his talking points than he was in having an actual conversation.

If you play the audio segments at the bottom of the piece, you’ll hear it in his voice: He was just having the best time. I can’t believe he’s gone.