A friend and former co-worker died, by himself, on Christmas Day.
I received the phone message, vague enough, and began to wonder who the bad news referred to. Given my Woody Allen method of trying to figure out who called and why instead of just calling and finding out, I went through the list of people I worked with last summer. My little summer of horrors.
I can say, without a doubt and with deep love as well, I admired, appreciated and loved my co-workers, save one blond menace. Some of the men I worked with are extraordinary. Some of them just needed to stay out of trouble and still, they were amazing as well. Kind, fun and funny and tireless in their underappreciated work at the nursery.
My first tour of duty in the summer of 2012 was the very best and I should have kept it at that yet there was more for me to learn I suppose I could say. I suppose I could but I won't! That first term of office at the nursery, Mike called me Maggie for about four days because he did not hear my name correctly. Then and now, his cornflower blue eyes with the dark blue rim around the iris were compelling and I began to call him Mr. Wizard. Mike knew everything.
Mike worked hard and kept us all intelligent and laughing with his bad jokes, some very, very blue in nature, kept us from killing the plants, kept us organized and appreciated. He was the only one and he was a worker, just like us.
Mike and I began to have closeness and sometimes, when we worked alone, he would tell me deep things about his life, and he told me fun jokes that made me stretch to find the answer. We talked about gardening, cooking, The Beatles, ice cream, his daughter, living at the beach, drugs, life and National Pirate Day.
After my first tour and before the end of yet another horrible job, he called one day and left me a message. I did not understand the caller at first until I heard the words, "Arrrrrr Molly, it be National Pirate Day."
I think of him and the times I called and checked on him, worried about him, loved him. I am glad that I told him because maybe it filled his cup, just a little. As we head towards celebrating Mike this coming Saturday, I think of the man who taught me how to laugh until my sides hurt. If you are listening Mike, my favorite Beatle really is Ringo.
May the road rise with you Michael.....
