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September 13, 2005

The Kitten's Fine.

I have some lame things to say. The same kind of lame cheese I have to say every day. But I just got an email from Robert, a former co-worker, and I think I want to talk about that first. I'll go to my self-absorbed, lame, cheesey bullshit later today.

I was 22 when I got my first job out of college. It was a small advertising agency that had converted two houses on a gorgeous piece of property into offices. In one house, we had the account services team - me, the account executive, the owner, and the office manager. In the other house we had the creative team - our copywriter and art executives. Oh, and a pool table. It was a good group. I was by far the youngest, which was okay. About a week after I got hired, my boss hired a new art associate. He was extremely quiet, and I'm not gonna lie, a bit weird. I have never met someone that seemed so intimidated by social situations. He got laid off eventually. He actually got a better deal than I did. He at least got severance. The rest of us got a picnic on the day the office closed. That was just over 3 years ago.

Today I got an email that he passed away. Insulin coma. And while I didn't know him, I'm still a bit sad. Not only that he died, but that apparently nobody found him for over 10 days. That makes me really sad.

I'm glad that I have friends and family looking out for me all the time. I'm glad that I make an effort to put myself out there - even sometimes when I don't want to. Because I would like to think that if something happened to me, those that care about me would worry before much time passed. That someone would come looking for me.

Is it selfish of me, to be thanking my lucky stars that I have family and friends like that at a time when a man I know has passed away and his family and friends didn't bother to check on him? Maybe. But I'm human. And that's how I feel.

So, Sherman, wherever you are, I hope you are happy, and that you've found some peace.

Posted by amy t. at September 13, 2005 08:31 AM

Comments

Do you think I would leave you dying
There's room on my horse for two
Climb up here Tommy, we'll soon by flying
Back to the ranks so blue
Can you feel Tommy I'm all a tremble
Perhaps it's the battle's noise
But I think it's that I remember
When we were two little boys

Posted by: Ms. Pants at September 13, 2005 09:19 AM

I think situations like that do make us realize how lucky we truly are.

Posted by: Faith at September 13, 2005 09:30 AM

Thanks for the serenade, Spud.

Posted by: MissDirected at September 13, 2005 10:03 AM

Let me be the first to admit that I hadn't seen or spoken to Sherman since we shut down that company. Let me also be the first to express how much I wish I had kept in touch with him. Amy, you know, he was hardly one to reach out to others, but I thought I had access to him that others didn't. Turns out I didn't...

He was my friend for over thirteen years, through grade school, college and even at work. But when the time came for us to all go our separate ways, he in particular went off in his own direction and didn't look back. That was one of the things I admired about him--his courage to dive head first into any given direction and not worry about the consequences. But I also knew that sooner or later, it would catch up with him.

And while you can say that nobody bothered to check on him, I can tell you that there were times when nobody even knew where he was. His mother even called me at one point (after RL&A shut down) just to find out where he was living. And I didn't have an answer.

I mean, I had my own health issues too, and we talked about it a lot. I could hardly recommend leaving friends and family in the dark like he did, but I think he really wanted to live his own life his own way, and without interference.

As his friend, I'm still conflicted about it all, but I guess it's a shame that I'll have to live with that I didn't try harder to keep in touch with him.

Posted by: Robert at September 13, 2005 11:03 AM