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It is a great pleasure to be here to present the first Annual Elisabeth Enczi Award and to say a few words about a woman whom it was an even greater pleasure to have known.
Elisabeth Enczi and I first met at a party many years ago. Our host, another psychoanalyst, said, “Liz, tell Ricky about your magic ring.” Elisabeth laughed, but the comment drew my attention to a ring on her hand which contained a large black stone covering a hidden compartment. I asked what type of magic the ring performed, and she replied that it would answer any question for me, but only one question was allowed. I thought for a moment and asked, “Will I be living tomorrow?” Elisabeth smiled and replied, “The ring's answer is ‘Are you alive today?’”
I knew from that moment that I had met a kindred spirit.
From that day until the last few days before her death Elisabeth Enczi was my teacher, my colleague, my literary companion through dozens of books, but, most of all, my best friend in the world. Unstintingly, throughout our long relationship, she was always available with an understanding ear, a sympathetic heart, and a passionately humane tolerance for my faults and weaknesses.
It was she who first convinced me to abandon an almost purely didactic approach to clinical work, and she who first urged me to work with children, correctly interpreting my hesitation and my terror as uniquely tied to my own childhood. She was my support in moments of great doubt, a safe harbor during periods of depression, a confidante whom I came to trust absolutely as I expect I will never trust anyone again.
Moreover, there were our shared interests-reading, nature, and traveling. Elisabeth, for whom English was a fourth language, was an incredibly rapid reader. She would devour whole novels in a sitting, and was constantly recommending this book or that. Soon we were exchanging books,