12.0 - In memory of...
Unfortunately, some of the people I've known who made the world brighter have passed away. If you knew these folks, please feel free to write me a note and we'll trade some memories. Please note that of all my pages, this one will remain a work in progress. As memories strike me, I'll stop in and write them up. No slight is meant by those entries that are not fleshed out as well as others.
12.1 - James Allen
Jim was a friend of my family's from about 1966 onward. He used to hang out with my sister and her friends, and when I grew old enough to be interesting, with me as well. Jim was extremely intelligent, funny in a bitter, pointed way, and someone I was proud to call my friend.
Jim was eventually hired to work for my mother at the family's literary agency, and for many years he worked hard and learned the details; eventually, he ran the business for several years while my mother was indisposed, and he did an extremely good job, dealing with issues that ranged from the Delaware river flooding the premises to problem employees with personalities like a cross between a skunk and a porcupine.
Something that particularly sticks in my mind is that Jim was absolutely vicious when it came to board games; we played many a Scrabble and chess game, and I don't think I have ever met anyone else who took the outcome of the game, as opposed to the game itself, quite so seriously. He was better than I was at Scrabble; I was better at chess; but we were close enough on both fields of battle, as it were, to make the outcome uncertain. Once I moved away in my twenties, Jim found further entertainment in joining complex card games and dealing out mayhem.
12.2 - Robert Conlon
One of the two people in the world I can legitimately call my mentors, Bob was street smart, hard as nails, and great fun to be around. He worked for Kolmar Laboratories most of the years I knew him, and consequently, he smelled better than anyone else I knew, all the time — Kolmar being a cosmetic manufacturer in Port Jervis, NY. Bob introduced me to motorcycles, big Harley choppers, as well as to fast cars. For a while, he drove an Oldsmobile 442 with a Hurst shifter that was really quite the monster. Bob taught me to be a gentleman, laid out very clear guidelines as to what that meant, and then simply expected me to get that handled — which I did, initially because I respected his opinion above all others, and later because it had become apparent the man was simply right on all counts.
I well remember one day when in a fit of good spirits, he gunned the Olds across route 209 through a gap in traffic with a tight smile on his face, which evaporated like lightning when he suddenly recalled he had studded winter tires on the car. Had, past tense, being the term for the studs, which of course were ripped right out of the tires. He loved fast cars; and he wasn't shy about driving them, either. One day his TR6, a beautiful little convertible, lost traction on a patch of ice on route 84 between Port Jervis and Middletown, and all he could tell us later was that when he woke up in a tangle of wreckage, unhurt, the only thing that was still unbroken on that car was the tape player, which was dutifully booming Black Sabbath into the winter air.
Another time, a friend and I walked from Ridgebury, NY, along route 6 and then down route 84 with the idea of walking to Port Jervis, about 12 miles. We started at about midnight, barefoot, and just walked and talked. By the time we were halfway down the mountain into Port Jervis, a long way from Ridgebury, our feet were quite sore. It was about 6am, and foggy. I heard a thrumming and stepped off the fog line where I was walking because it was easier on my feet, and who goes by at well over a hundred miles an hour? Bob, of course, in his Olds 442. He saw us, stopped, backed up a long way, and without asking any questions, opened the door and powered off with us. That was Bob. If nothing needed to be said, odds were, he wouldn't say anything at all. Most people just wish they were "cool." Bob actually was cool.
I know Bob had a daughter, though I only met her once. To her: If by any chance you come across this, I would very much appreciate it if you made contact.
12.3 - Michael Geiger
Michael lived across the street from me for many years. He was a couple years younger than I, handsome and vital, and it seemed to me that he (and his brother Steven, a friend of mine when he nerves himself up to tolerate my views) pretty much had the world by the tail. I lost touch with Michael, and then in conversation with Steven years later, he told me - stunned me, really - the news that Michael had taken his own life. You could have knocked me over with a feather.
My regrets are deep and many; what stands out, though, is that I wish I had been there to talk to him, he always seemed to look up to me and I wish with all my heart that I told him the truth, which was that I thought very highly of him. This was a life lesson for me: If you think someone is a high quality person, don't keep it to yourself. They may need to know.
12.4 - Pete Gerardi
Pete was my best friend for many years when I lived in Florida. He was the fellow who finally convinced me to get a ham radio license. We lived about 1/2 an hour apart, and it was costing us a considerable sum to talk on the telephone. So I got my ham license, we set up 2-meter beam antennas pointed at each other, and talked until we were blue in the face many a night. We also used modems (this was back in the 1970's, don't sneer) to send computer programs and data back and forth over 2 meters. We had 6809 and 6800 computers, his was home brew and mine was a kit.
Pete and I met at a computer club meeting in Broward county. We found many common interests in electronics, computers, opinions and hobbies. We had some wild adventures together that unfortunately, I can't really commit to this page; but suffice it to say we had enormous amounts of fun, definitely more than your average pair of technical types. Pete passed away June 15th, 2007. I can't believe I can't just call him up any longer.
12.5 - Melissa Mell
A friend and intimate of my youth, Melissa was killed on the highway. She was kind, passionate, and refreshingly free of the prejudice and general malaise that infected the minds of many of the young people I grew up with. She died far, far too young.
Considering I was a long-haired hippie musician, I didn't fit in all that well with the people in my high school. Melissa was one of the few who wasn't concerned with it. She was interested in what I had to say, in music, in being friendly in general. Looking back, I can count on my fingers the number of people in my class who could lay claim to such a gentle, positive outlook.
The image here is from the 1973 Delaware yearbook; if anyone has a better picture of her, I would love to have a digital copy of it, both for this page and for myself.
12.6 - Jim Travis
Jim and his brother Tyler got me started playing guitar. Jim was always a little extreme, a little out on the edge, and I have to say I admired him for it, generally speaking. He developed some locomotion problems, and was killed crossing a street. A bitter pill for the rest of us to swallow. I remain in touch with his brother, Tyler.
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