letter from an alumna about Alex Wojiechowicz 61
March 20, 2002
I met Alex Wojiechowicz '61 one pristine morning last
summer when he flew his small plane up to Great Barrington, Massachusetts
to visit my little company. There he stood at the tiny municipal airport,
smiling, as I drove up in my dented red convertible to pick him up at
the appointed hour. It was a brief visit, but long enough for us to realize
we were exactly twenty classes apart at Princeton, were each entrepreneurs
in our own medical businesses (his considerably larger than ours) and
shared an appreciation for the subtle beauty of that Berkshire morning.
Alex became a client, the kind of client who reminds you you're in business
to make money and to make certain you charge him for the work you're doing.
In our short acquaintance, my husband, Eric, and I came to know a man
of distinct, unshakable character, with a look in his eye that told you
he knew where he had been, what it had taken to get there, and exactly
where he stood today, with all the advantages that hard work and determination
I did not know Alex well. I hardly new him, really. But when his plane
fell out of the sky last December, Princeton, lost a true gentleman, a
word not to be used lightly these days. Alex, you will be missed, even
by those of us who have only a single morning to remember you by.