GRIFFIN FARIELLO

I am lying in bed recovering from Covid and suddenly I think of my friend Griffin whom I have not seen in a decade and then I Google him and discover he is gone. He was a very good friend of mine in childhood in Livorno and I had a visit with him in Wash DC and later in San Francisco with my mother when she was alive. I knew David and Claudia also. How quickly life passes.

I wanted to see what else he had done besides "Red Scare," which I have used often in research. And I came upon this. Deepest sympathy for his family. Great sadness for all of us. We could use his voice now. In solidarity.

He was my (at the time) boyfriend's uncle, and seemed larger than life at times to this San Francisco newbie. What a shock to hear this. He was so young still. Lindsay (Moro) Attolini

Sorry to hear about the passing of the best building manager ever. Such a cool guy.

I just found out today from Katie Estill and Dan Woodrell that Grif had died. Why weren't we in touch? I lost touch w/ many people from the Iowa Workshop. I thought Grif, Dan and Matt P. were all working class veterans. Well, two were, out of three. More than 30 years ago--I remember his assurance and the way he'd make fun of people--me--but never in a mean way. Never. More exuberant than anything.

G was my friend. I miss him. We padded the streets of SF together for twenty years, and most of the time did so while arguing about anything that mattered, even when we fundamentally agreed. Especially when we fundamentally agreed. Whenever I visit the City now I stop by the North Point apartment, stand below what was his window, open always to the Bay breeze and fresh ideas, and listen for his booming voice barreling through the night like a runaway freight train. Come see me, buddy. I...

Is it too late to write something about Grif? I went to high school with him in Palo Alto. He was ALWAYS joyful and inspiring to be around. While he could find - and share - the humor about anything, he also was the first to want to talk about the underlying issues. The world is a sadder, less thoughtful place without him.

As I opened a new novel by Daniel Woodrell I notice the dedication: In memory of Grif Fariello. I was stunned. Although I have not thought of Grif regularly over the years, I still remember fondly the time we briefly shared a farmhouse outside Iowa City. My first job at the University of Iowa coincided with his time at the Writer's Workshop. He kindly introduced me to some of the members of the workshop and I still remember his storyboard in his bedroom. He was working on a novel about...

Separated by many miles and different life tracks my cousin Grif and I didn't see each other much. But I will always remeber him fondly and recall our occasional meetings and conversations.