Not much activity here lately, but I still remember, still miss you. I'm sorry I wasn't as good a friend as you needed. As you deserved. So I continue to do the things I need to do, in order to be the kind of person you would have thought well of.

I've been a lot more fortunate, a lot more lucky, than I feel I deserve. But I try to appreciate that, and to be grateful for each day.

I wish you were here, but I guess you're in a much better place. I hope that somday we'll meet again.

S.

Thanks

Jason and Indy
Boondogs

http://www.selloutmusic.com/spinsouth/11GoodbyeandGodspeed.mp3

One of Steph's sisters took a picture of Alison with her cameraphone. Pretty dramatic! And no, she isn't really evil. Steph can totally vouch for her.

Photo taken by Susan, with Mike's camera, at the Tabernacle in Atlanta. Mark, another friend, found the photo at The Elvis Costello Home Page.

. . . As was already obvious to readers of the old Cipherdom, I haven't had the urge to write much since November 2. Or not to write here, at least. If my blogging days weren't over before, it sure felt that way upon our losing Mike. I couldn't bring myself to write about him, apart from a short message of condolence. Death is too big to deal with in a meager blog entry, which is better suited to the short, pithy posts of which Mike himself was a master. He had an ease about him and a knack for making you smile or laugh out loud at some outrageous URL he'd stumbled across, but he was just as good at writing serious stuff.

Mike's sort of casual brilliance doesn't come naturally to me, to put it mildly; I'm more methodical and never mastered the art of chatting, whether networked or in-person. Also, I've always been ambivalent about on-line life, and especially about blogging. The narcissism, the illusion of intimacy (and, paradoxically, of anonymity), the nagging triviality of most Internet activities -- all this reminds me of the quote by Elvis Costello, who early on pegged the 'net as "a boomtown for obsessives." Well, yes, though it takes one to know one, doesn't it?

Mike and I became acquainted on an Elvis Costello email list that began about 1990. I was among the initial half-dozen subscribers or so, and Mike joined in the mid-90s. Having started at a time when there was no graphical interface to the Internet, that humble mail list grew into something bigger, more special, and eventually unmanageable. What was exciting at first -- to meet so many people of like mind -- is exactly what later made it stultifying. Still, deep friendships formed there, and fortunately they far outlasted the general pettiness that caused many of us to run screaming from that particular version of Deadwood.

So . . . Many of us stayed in touch through various media and to varying degrees. I confess to growing disillusioned with it all at regular intervals, not unlike real life. The debate will never end regarding whether on-line friends are as real as the non-virtual kind. I suspect Mike never doubted the value of friends, whether he'd met them in person or not. Certainly the response to his passing is the most powerful evidence I can think of to refute the notion that life lived on-line is inferior to more-traditional relationships. I'd even say I'm a bit ashamed now to have ever doubted it.

Mike obviously had both kinds of friends, in any case. A whole bunch of people traveled cross-country to attend his funeral, which was held in Georgia, where he grew up. For the past several years, he'd lived in the NYC area. Connecticut, to be exact. I admire and envy those people for going. I also empathize with them, because it's difficult to meet a friend's family under such terrible circumstances. I know Mike had his frustrations with some or all of them through the years, just as he probably had frustrations with me, and I with him and with them, and so on and on. One of them wrote to me the other day, a beautiful message describing the services and helping me come to grips with what I'd compartmentalized for more than a week by that point. In response to some whingeing remark I'd made about the inadequacy of technology and humans, she wrote -- way more generously than I deserved -- the following:

"But, please, no alienation and isolation! We all feel that too much and I think I've learned, if I've learned nothing else through all of this, that there are more people that have our back than we ever know."

Man, I want to remember that from now on, not that I'm under any illusions about having affected as many people as Mike did. I hope he had some inkling of what he meant to everyone.

Vernam
Cipherdom

Originally posted here and offered here. Thanks.

I moved from Atlanta to Scotland a number of years ago. A couple of days ago I was flipping through our little phone book for the area, and came across this entry at the top of the page. It gave me a good chuckle and sense of the bizarre that I surely would have shared with Mike. But today, instead, I'll just share it with someone else who might find it a bit amusing too. You might like to know as well that Cumbernauld is known as one of the worst places to live in Britain, so it's good to know they at least have a celebrity to spruce up the place.

Becky

You can still hear the sound of Mike's voice. It's so him - funny and self-deprecating and incredibly sweet.

Many of you probably know this, but Mike's friends/coworkers were able to establish administrator rights to his blog, so there's no need to worry about Randomness Personified disappearing from the internet.

-Lady Crumpet

The funeral and lunch that followed were difficult to get through, but funny stories and good memories of Mike helped make the day easier, but not easy. It was wonderful to meet his parents, Stephanie, and so many people I had heard of through Mike, but not met in person. I wish I had been able to stand up and speak during the service, but at the time couldn’t find the words. I have been remembering so many little things I shared with Mike and how his friendship enriched my life. At one point, we were both going through difficult, messy relationships and we talked each other through the rough spots, commiserated, encouraged each another to stay strong; reminded each other that we deserved more.

When I started in the IT Dept at Wieland, I called on Mike 10+ times a day for guidance and he was always there for me. I learned a lot from him about how to deal with people. Even when people drove him insane (and working on the Helpdesk this happens a lot) he managed to be kind and helpful to everyone (even if it meant throwing something when he got back to his desk). He was honest to a fault, loyal, caring, brilliant, insightful, funny and incredibly independent. He was someone I wanted to call with news. When I told him Jonathan and I were getting married, he couldn’t have been happier for us and I so hoped that he would find someone worthy of all his gifts. I think he did with Stephanie and I am grateful that he found that happiness, however short-lived.

When I got my new car, I emailed him pictures and he immediately called me back. “You are such a Mini person!” His enthusiasm for life was contagious and inspiring.

Jonathan and I planned to visit in January and decided to wait until spring, when the weather improved. I wish we had gone and I had the chance to see New York through his eyes; the city I was born in and he knew better than I ever will. His passing has left a void in my life and my heart, but I am honored to have been even a tiny part of his.

There will be tears and candles
Pretty words to say
Spare me lily-white lilies
With the awful perfume of decay
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing

It's so hard to tear myself away
Even when you know it's over
It's too much to say.
Banish all dismay
Extinguish every sorrow
If I'm lost or I'm forgiven
The birds will still be singing

from "The Birds Will Still be Singing"
Words and Music Declan McManus

When I saw him listed on Classmates.com several years later, I paid the stupid membership fee just so I could send him an email. Unfortunately, he hadn’t updated his profile recently, and the email address was bad. Gah!

Then a year or so later, he contacted me through Classmates.com. His email said something like, “pretty silly of me to pay the stupid membership fee just so I could send you an email.” I said, “not really!”

Anyhow…Mike made high school bearable for me. He was a true friend. He was always there to listen to my petty problems. He was never swayed by the fickle passions of popularity. He knew who he was even then. He was real; he was himself, even in an environment of constant pressure to conform.

We sat together a lot of the time in the classes we shared – the teachers had a tendency to assign seating by last name (though I would have gladly sat with him anyway). I’m so fortunate to have had him in my life for so long.

When I heard the news yesterday, I bawled for about an hour. I didn’t have time to make arrangements to be there for the service today in Athens, Georgia. But I’m comforted by the belief that he’s not really gone, just in a higher dimension, one with no illness or suffering. We are all One, and we are never really separated from each other, even in death. We will miss his voice, his humor, his cleverness…but he will always be with us.

Many thanks to Lady Crumpet for setting up this memorial site. It helps tremendously with the grieving process to know how much he was loved and how he touched so many lives.

I love you Mike, even if you did have any mention of Billy Joel banned from your blog. Thank you for being you.

Tiffany
One to Many. Originally posted here and kindly shared here.

It is the day after Mike's funeral and it all seems so unreal. The love we all shared through the bad times of the past few days is still real. Continue to remember Mike by thinking about the happy times. Mike loved you all. Thank you for making his life easier and loving him for who he was.

Some of you may know I have a passion for flower gardening. I went into my garden this morning and found some new flowers blooming. God has His way of healing broken hearts. For me seeing the new flowers opening their petals and showing their beauty is a sign that our lives keep opening. The force of love inside when it is smothered still can not be stopped. Love pushes forward out of tragedy and like Jesus overcomes death. I hope you all remember Mike by loving each other.

Mike's Mom

(Click on the images for larger versions)

Beginning a new day with a promise of spring to come

Camellias in bloom

Lenten rose blooming

Love comes in bunches

There's supposed to be a link to a slide show of pictures that were shown at the funeral home but I don't think that it's available yet. (Please correct me if I'm wrong or if there is updated information.)

-Lady Crumpet