Anthony Martignetti was a fantastic storyteller. Or is a fantastic storyteller; he is gone, but his stories live on.

Even when the content seems less than riveting, the way his words unfold draws you in, and his extraneous details are captivating.

When I first started reading the tales of fairly inconsequential events, regarding people I didn't know and never would, that happened 50 years ago, I wondered... what's the point of this story? But as I read on, I realised that the story was the point of the story. Some of the stories had meanings to take away, some just gave poignant pause for thought. But all of them were captivating to read. And that is the sign of a great storyteller; it felt like sitting down and listening to an old friend telling you anecdotes late into the night.

I'm glad Anthony wrote his stories down. Now he can continue to be a great storyteller forever.