To MICHAEL From Don

Shit, Michael, this sucks!  (I can just hear you saying, “What’s wrong with sucking, anyway? The most maligned word in the English language!)  It just isn’t fair!  (I know, Michael,  “Who says life has to be fair?”  You always did have a way with a cliché. How many times did you say: “Many are called but few are chosen.” Whatever the fuck that means!  I’d like to say that somehow you imbued it with some profound wisdom, but in reality it’s a perfect example of your renowned flippancy.)  The fact is that I could always depend on you to say (directly and wittily) exactly what I needed to hear.  Like the time, after I had finally, definitively (I like to think) stopped drinking, and I said that everyone was telling me how I hadn’t changed, which I took to mean that I was still the nice guy I’d always been, drunk or sober.  You said: “Well as my father, a reformed alcoholic, always said, ‘once an asshole, always an asshole.’

I sure will miss you, Michael.  I’ve seen you in all kinds of moods but never angry; never have I seen you lose that innate ‘cool’ that was such a remarkable aspect of your character. Easy-going, unflappable Michael.  I’ve spent some of the most memorable moments of my life in your company with a group of extraordinary people, which includes, among others, Jane, Adam & Alba (or Eve, as you invariably called her), Lupe, Peter, Mario & Belem, Matthew and, of course, Angeles, and her beautiful family. I marveled at the tenderness with which you treated your godchild, Francisco; the playful yet supportive rapport you developed with Rebeca and your other step-daughters, Jessica and Erika; your immense generosity of spirit, spirits, food, etc. (you certainly helped me through some economically dicey times!); the agility of your mind and the finesse with which you merged your anthropological skills and socialistic background with Angeles’ applied linguistic research and socialistic idealism; and, well, wow, am I ever amazed at your seemingly absolutely perfect relationship with Angeles.  (As you know I often jokingly referred to her as a bitch, and I when she reported to me all the chores you were constantly running for her and Rebeca, I would tell her: “He’s a saint”, and, in fact, she recently wrote to me saying what a saint you are.)  This is not only a tribute to you, old man, but to your wonderful wife, Angeles, as well!  You two were made for each other.

One of the most important aspects of our friendship was our love of music.  Not only did you encourage me to revisit and embrace a lot of music from the past (artists, groups and genres), but you were incredibly open to many ‘genders’ of music (as you would say) and artists I introduced you to, only balking  at Balkan and Celtic (with a hard initial ‘c’, please!)  Our relationship in terms of music was reciprocal, for which I will always be extremely proud.  I’ll never forget the time you called to tell me about a new group from one of the Congos that you’d just read about in Songlines (a world music magazine from Britain), Staff Benda Bilili, a group made up of “incapacitados” in motorcycle-like wheelchairs, and I told you that not only had I heard of them, but had just that morning burned you a copy of their CD.  It felt so good to be able to astonish you for a change.  Something else for which I feel proud is that at the time of your death you had pretty much listened your way through the 20-disc care package I sent y’all for Christmas and commented favorably on all of them.  You know how when a particular artist died, you always listened to his or her discs, asked me if I had anything by that person, or if I could get something by that artist?  Well, for the past week I’ve been listening to a variety of music that I know you loved.  From now on I will always wonder if you would like this or that disc and if you would like for me to burn it for you.  Just one of the many ways you will live on in my memory and my life.

Michael, my dear friend, I will miss you more than you could ever imagine.  And I’ll never forget you, the finest person I’ve ever known.  So many of us have been blessed by your presence in our lives. 
Love,     
Don    

 PS:  Today is MY 65^th birthday.  You’ll be pleased to know that the  inmates are planning a “convivio” for me today at the prison.