This piece first appeared on a website of mine on Saturday, December 16, 2000, at 6:32:26 AM. The WayBack Machine kept it safe for me, and I feel that perhaps, just perhaps, it shouldn’t be left to others to keep track of.

Well half my friends are crazy and the others are depressed

I volunteered to chaperone a LAN party for a friend’s son and a bunch of his friends. The goal was to get a good bit of work done, but some rediculous circumstances prevented that from happening. And, given that the environment was sufficiently distracting and entertaining, the semester is over, and my brain is tired… well, why bother? So, I relaxed.

Nine or ten high-school students, computers, carbonated beverage and pizza. We ran out of beverage early in the evening, so I made a run and spotted for it–why not? I don’t recall shelling out often in HS for that kind of thing. That was the parent’s job, right? Or, maybe I had a job. I don’t recall.

“What does everybody want?”

“Nothing decaffinated. Like, no decaffinated Mountain Dew.” was one response.

“Maybe Sprite, but nothing that was formerly cafinated.” was another. I liked that one. It reminded me of good friends from years past.

Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same

So, I took off. I should have known. I mean, Matt, Mikee, Jimmy, Pankaj and I designed and built the “Pepsi Bong,” although we may have called it something else then. The idea was it was as close to an IV as you could get for caffeine. Drill a hole in a cap, feed in some surgical tubing… and viola! A flexible, two-foot straw for your 2L bottle! Refills would become a thing of the past! Unfortunately, you lost all the carbonation by the time the Pepsi made it up the tube. And, if I recall, we tried it with “Crystal Pepsi.” That was a bad idea as well…

One of the crew was even MUDding. It reminds me of Damion and I hanging around Lorain County Freenet waiting to see if anyone we knew would log on to chat. Talk about old-school.

When temptation calls we just look away

So, I laid down to fall asleep around 5. I figured I should get some sleep, right? Granted, it was a floor and a sleeping bag, with the sounds of “Unreal Tournament” blazing away in a half-lit room (other people had already crashed). Given my history of being able to fall asleep anywhere, anytime, I figured I’d be out in 3 minutes.

I wake up scared, I wake up strange

And, then I started to think. And remember. And wish.

Bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me

These guys go to a high school with around 1400 students. I graduated with 35. There were 150 of us running around LRA. I still keep in touch with a core group–no worse or better than my friends from Kenyon, which doesn’t say much. But, we email occasionally, or call–more often call. Pankaj is almost done with his rotations, and then moves on to residency. Jimmy is a phone operator for Sprint… well, a bit more than that, but hey–you need to get your licks in on Jimmy when you can. Matt finished his art major at Skidmore, and did a 1-year intensive program at Kent to get certified to teach. Melinda is teaching 3rd graders, Erin is almost done with school, Rachael is gainfully employed in Atlanta, and I don’t know where Leigh is right now (which bothers me).

What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy

And Mikee.

I met Mikee and Matt in the 8th grade, when I visited LRA. I don’t remember how I felt about leaving the Columbia public school system, or if I was excited about LRA. I can’t envision life any other way, now. It simply was. From our first meeting, I couldn’t have known the role they would play in my life for the next four years, and now, beyond.

I know that it isn’t right / But be with me tonight

“Hey Matt… Matt?”

I don’t know if it was Junior or Senior year. I do remember the conversation Matt, Mikee and I were having at Matt’s house, where I just dropped out. Laying on the floor of Matt’s bedroom, I just passed out. Conversation was going fairly round-robin between the three of us, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t there. This apparently was not a new thing, but I remmber that one time, for some reason.

I also remember the night where Mikee finally broke down in his attempt to stay up for as long as possible. He hadn’t slept for over seventy hours when he finally just passed out, and slept for something like 12 hours. In a chair.

Chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and I wrote this song

Mikee is gone. I pray to the Lord that he found a better place–there was no peace for him on this Earth.

I lost touch with Mike after LRA. We kept in touch while he was at Kent; we’d email late at night, while I was doing Organic and he was doing his radio show. We saw each-other on holidays after he dropped Kent, but by then I was deep into doing a bang-up job on a Physics major. I didn’t keep up well with friends at Kenyon while I was there; anyone anywhere else was out of luck if they weren’t (at least) reactive.

This song is the cross that I bear

Matt kept in touch with Mike; if there were limits to friendship, Matt helped define them. I don’t think I know anyone else like Matt–he’s about as much not like me as is possible, in some ways, and we’re so much alike in others. He is so much a truer, deeper friend, though; not that I believe by any stretch that I am shallow, but things run deeper with Matt in ways that I simply don’t understand. That is, if it isn’t clear, a good thing.

When he called me to tell me that Mikee had taken his own life, I think I locked that away. I can’t really deal with it now, fully–not here, not now. It’s now 6:00 AM, and the kids have gone to bed. I remember doing that. Sleep until nine or ten, or maybe even eight; eat some food, and go back to it. Or, perhaps they’ll go home, and get some sleep. Or, try and do schoolwork. It was the same for us at LRA.

But they would probably rather not have a wreck on their hands. They have their own issues, their own stress, their own rollercoaster to ride. But the emotion is screaming for its release. Someday. Nothing before its time.

If I had a $1,000,000

What does money matter? It wouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t matter. Life is shaped by the people around us, and its what we take for granted that we miss the most. But not soon enough. Never soon enough. Thats the sad thing about it.

Make a little Birdhouse in your soul

Peace to you, Mikee. BNL’s Gordon, and now TMBG. I remember. I’ll never forget. And maybe, as time goes on, I’ll actually write the stories down, and that way, I might be able to share with my children who you were, and what you meant to me, in my life.

Peace, my friend. Rest.