January 14, 2002

Michael,

I remember like it was yesterday, meeting you for the first time. You called on me with a briefcase full of gems, looking more for information about what you had in your posession than to sell. You were new in the jewelry business and so was I.

It said a lot to me that a family you met in India during your tenure in the Peace Corps felt safe in sending you such a volume of valuable material on a hope and a wish that some business would follow. You created such a level of trust in the people you met. But then, as for the family in India, how could they resist a red haired kid from America that spoke Hindi? Years later I had the pleasure of watching the look of delightful surprise on Indian gem dealer's faces as you dropped right into their language.

I remember we spent several hours together at that first meeting, parting only after we both acknowledged feeling like we'd known each other for years. And I remember that the feeling of comaraderie continued, right up until the last time I saw you in the back yard of your Berkeley home, surrounded by family and friends wishing your son well as he was about to begin his adult journey into life... even up till now.

You were always a friend I could tell anything to, share anything with. You were a prince among men. I learned while watching you that everyone has an interesting story to tell... that people will smile and answer to someone who shows sincere interest in them. Your enthusiasm and earnest charm gave me reason enough to look deeper inside myself and divulge secrets.

But the greatest gift you shared with me, and maybe without any knowledge of the fact, was your sense of fatherhood. From the time you knew you were going to be a father, until the last day I spoke with you, you always presented the most beautiful model of a dad. That model affected me deeply enough that I often think, "what would Michael do?" Being a father is richer, I'm sure, because I first got to watch you become one.

You were a dear man, a loyal and true friend. I have missed your company often since I moved, and now I will miss you more. You live still though, in the stories I tell of someone who made a difference in who I am... and the stories of a red headed guy with the big grin speaking fluent Hindi at the gem shows.

Your memory brings a smile. Travel well, my friend.

 
[ I get by with a little help... ]