Grace Paley, one the greatest short-story writers of modern times, died last week. I knew her slightly, through our mutual interest in leftist Jewish activism, and as a writer. When I started to edit BRONX NOIR I asked her if she'd write a story for it. She answered that she wasn't well enough to write, and besides, she said, she didn't think she could do a noir story: "My childhood in the Bronx was too happy." The book came out last month and I dedicated it to her, and sent her a copy. I hope she got it, and I hope it gave her a smile. If you haven't read THE LITTLE DISTURBANCES OF MAN or ENORMOUS CHANGES AT THE LAST MINUTE, I envy you the joy of discovering these stories for the first time. And if there's a rabble-rousing letter you've been thinking about writing, or a demonstration you're not sure whether to go to -- do it for Grace.