This was played at a friend’s memorial service almost 23 years ago. Wow–it doesn’t seem like it should be that long ago. I still remember Mike. The second he opened his mouth you knew he was a radio announcer. He sounded like he should have been tall, dark and handsome. Actually, he was short, graying, and… well, he may have been handsome in his youth, but somehow that wasn’t important.
We met at the bookstore–Mike played chess, and there were tables in the back of the store that were almost always occupied. Once in a while, he ventured up front to sit and talk, or wandered toward the record shop to hang out with Dave, and we became friends. I started learning chess. Sometimes he drove me home.
To make a potentially long story short, Mike died of a heart attack. He was 57. As this song played, slides of old pictures from various parts of his life flashed on the screen.
A postscript: a couple of years after Mike died, I was at work, watching one of those corporate training films–Dealing With Difficult People or something like that. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw a younger Mike in the film. For a moment, he was never gone.