Reading (For Dummies)

Farewell, Mikey

When I was a kid, I had this neighbor. He was born six days after me. We played together non-stop for about 16 years. We fished, caught snakes and turtles, played army in the woods, shot BB guns at cans and birds. It was a bit of an ideal upbringing.

We drifted apart a bit in high school. I discovered these computer things and the Internet, and spent my nights playing MUDs, programming in Pascal, and sysopping my BBS. He got into women, whiskey, fishing, and rifles (maybe not in that order). These things happen, I guess.

Two weeks ago, I learned that he died rather suddenly while fishing in Glacier National Park. I knew that he lived up there for several years. I had always meant to call and get a beer with him, but just never got around to it. Now that will never happen.

I'm pretty bummed, to say the least. Mikey was my oldest friend and I think that we knew each other in the way that only childhood friends could. I knew that he loved eating dirt, he knew that I was deathly afraid of snakes.

Mikey made quite a life for himself in Glacier. He had hundreds of friends -- probably everyone in the area of his sparsely populated Hungry Horse knew him and made it to his memorial service. His life was a but unconventional which makes it all the more interesting. He was the "travelling sous chef" for about every restaurant in Glacier. He was unmarried, had a cute-as-hell kid with his long-time girlfriend, and spent every non-work hour rousing rabble, fishing, or hunting. It's kind of what I expected, and it makes me smile now to know that Mikey was out there and hopeful that someone will fill his shoes some day. I only wish that those shoes did not need filling so soon...

So here's to my old friend Mikey, and to better times ahead.