Have you ever loved someone you didn't like? A better way to say it is probably "Have you ever loved someone who was both the worst and the best of humanity at the same time?"
This week I lost a friend that I can honestly say showed me both the best and the worst of what it means to be alive - the passion and the frailty, the beauty and the darkness of what it means to be human. And both in a way that made me love him and made me and everyone who knew him better for that experience.
Perhaps the best way to start this is to say that when I first heard he had died, sitting on the balcony of his hotel room in Brazil, on a business trip, sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar at 8 o'clock in the morning, the first thought through my mind was, "that SOB, he found a way to fake his death and live the rest of his days in the lap of luxury in Rio". That should give you an idea of the kind of man Michael was. If you knew him, the first thoughts through your mind were probably similar. He was a passionate spirit, a beautiful mind, and a real SOB. He's probably looking down on me right now saying "quit your blubbering you pansy". Only he's saying it with a few more expletives and a grin that Loki would be proud of. This time though Michael, I get to have the last word.
I first met Michael about 10 years ago at a MidWest SAS User's Group conference in Cincinnati. I was living in Philadelphia at the time and looking for a way to get back to Ohio where my family lived. We randomly bumped into each other at the conference registration desk and started up a conversation - both being in the Pharma industry at the time, we briefly talked NDA's, FDA and phase 3 clinical trials. We went our separate ways for a year.
A year later, we found ourselves in Detroit at the same MWSUG conference. This time, he had taken a job at a small marketing firm in Cincinnati called dunnhumby. We caught up a bit, played a few hands of Euchre late one evening with some conference colleagues and he talked the company up. I sent him my resume, and in true butterfly fashion, before I knew it, I was relocating to Cincinnati and working in the same department alongside this bright flame of knowledge and creativity.
For as long as I knew him, Michael was a trickster - he kept me guessing and was always quick with a joke, a put-down or a witticism that make you say "wow, I never thought of it that way". He gave me a hard time at every opportunity. And then, one day he was doing just that - when he inadvertently uncovered something he never saw coming - he was the first to learn of my pending divorce. And he instantly turned from a devilishly wry prankster, to a kind humanitarian. I will never forget that moment Michael - for in that moment you showed me another side of who you really were. And, yes, I apologize for telling the world now this kindness was another facet to your character.
Through the years, you moved around in the company and so did I. Once in a while we ran into each other and engaged in a little water-cooler conversation. And as luck would have it, a few months ago, we ended up sitting a few desks away from each other in the ever-changing corporate world. We talked some. We jibbed. And jabbed. You and Sandra came to my Halloween party last year where you, not unexpectedly, inappropriately dropped the "F-bomb" among some of my church friends. And I never thought that might be your last Halloween party. And despite that, I forgave you, because I knew you meant well. Deep down.
You were often irreverent, but you were also a good friend to those who knew you. If it weren't for you, I'd never have known Jeff, Mark, Charles, Richann, Mike, Jerome and a host of others. If it weren't for you, I'd never be where I am today. Extrapolate just a little, and you could say that many of the good things in my life right now are a result of that random encounter at the registration desk where we met 10 years ago - I may not have spent the last 7 years in Cincinnati living a great life. Or met my incredible wife or the array of amazing people I now call friends. And for that, I owe you a debt. I suppose that is where we all end up - feeling a debt of gratitude to the great ones in our lives. For that I raise a glass in your honor my friend.
Vaya con Dios Michael. We will miss you. Hasta luego.
This week I lost a friend that I can honestly say showed me both the best and the worst of what it means to be alive - the passion and the frailty, the beauty and the darkness of what it means to be human. And both in a way that made me love him and made me and everyone who knew him better for that experience.
Perhaps the best way to start this is to say that when I first heard he had died, sitting on the balcony of his hotel room in Brazil, on a business trip, sipping a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar at 8 o'clock in the morning, the first thought through my mind was, "that SOB, he found a way to fake his death and live the rest of his days in the lap of luxury in Rio". That should give you an idea of the kind of man Michael was. If you knew him, the first thoughts through your mind were probably similar. He was a passionate spirit, a beautiful mind, and a real SOB. He's probably looking down on me right now saying "quit your blubbering you pansy". Only he's saying it with a few more expletives and a grin that Loki would be proud of. This time though Michael, I get to have the last word.
I first met Michael about 10 years ago at a MidWest SAS User's Group conference in Cincinnati. I was living in Philadelphia at the time and looking for a way to get back to Ohio where my family lived. We randomly bumped into each other at the conference registration desk and started up a conversation - both being in the Pharma industry at the time, we briefly talked NDA's, FDA and phase 3 clinical trials. We went our separate ways for a year.
A year later, we found ourselves in Detroit at the same MWSUG conference. This time, he had taken a job at a small marketing firm in Cincinnati called dunnhumby. We caught up a bit, played a few hands of Euchre late one evening with some conference colleagues and he talked the company up. I sent him my resume, and in true butterfly fashion, before I knew it, I was relocating to Cincinnati and working in the same department alongside this bright flame of knowledge and creativity.
For as long as I knew him, Michael was a trickster - he kept me guessing and was always quick with a joke, a put-down or a witticism that make you say "wow, I never thought of it that way". He gave me a hard time at every opportunity. And then, one day he was doing just that - when he inadvertently uncovered something he never saw coming - he was the first to learn of my pending divorce. And he instantly turned from a devilishly wry prankster, to a kind humanitarian. I will never forget that moment Michael - for in that moment you showed me another side of who you really were. And, yes, I apologize for telling the world now this kindness was another facet to your character.
Through the years, you moved around in the company and so did I. Once in a while we ran into each other and engaged in a little water-cooler conversation. And as luck would have it, a few months ago, we ended up sitting a few desks away from each other in the ever-changing corporate world. We talked some. We jibbed. And jabbed. You and Sandra came to my Halloween party last year where you, not unexpectedly, inappropriately dropped the "F-bomb" among some of my church friends. And I never thought that might be your last Halloween party. And despite that, I forgave you, because I knew you meant well. Deep down.
You were often irreverent, but you were also a good friend to those who knew you. If it weren't for you, I'd never have known Jeff, Mark, Charles, Richann, Mike, Jerome and a host of others. If it weren't for you, I'd never be where I am today. Extrapolate just a little, and you could say that many of the good things in my life right now are a result of that random encounter at the registration desk where we met 10 years ago - I may not have spent the last 7 years in Cincinnati living a great life. Or met my incredible wife or the array of amazing people I now call friends. And for that, I owe you a debt. I suppose that is where we all end up - feeling a debt of gratitude to the great ones in our lives. For that I raise a glass in your honor my friend.
Vaya con Dios Michael. We will miss you. Hasta luego.