Thanks Michael

Michael, I must have first met you at a LASA or some such meeting in Indianapolis or Cincinnati—early 1980s. Then I remember in 1982 just before I got married. You always talked the straight talk and I loved it from the beginning.

You told me about Oscar Lewis and Douglas Butterworth. I reconstructed and revived Lewis after talking to you—not the culture of poverty, but an old Stalinist. Reading him right, you see he’s talking about poverty, structural poverty, and not blaming the victims.

You turned me on to Zaretsky, to many other writers.

You taught me to use rock n roll in my classes—anthropology….. You deconstructed thick texts in a few words—you ate them for breakfast seemingly. I was always so impressed at your brain power. My first trip to Oaxaca—you introduced me to Guadalupe, to Cecil Welte, to Oaxaca. At dark moments in my life, you’d get up and walk to the phone on the corner and give me a call to see how I was doing. I wish I could do that for you. How’re you doing Michael?

You introduced me to all the ordinary diverse people in Oaxaca. We held your retirement party in Oaxaca with all your friends. One of the best parties ever. I’m so glad you retired at 55, my friend.

When you met Angeles, I said, 'I thought you said you didn’t want to get into a relationship.' You said, ‘she shows me places in myself I didn’t even know were there.’ Wow.

When you all came through Atlanta last year, I pulled you aside to ask your advice, I knew you’d give me the straight answer, as always. You said, 'if you don’t feel comfortable, don’t do it.'

Just last week, I told you to be sure to do exercises with your cast on because your muscles would atrophy. You said thanks.

Thanks Michael