Last week, I found out that one of my best friends is dead. I first met John Midtgard in 6th grade. Since we left the cradle of Zephyrhills High School back in 1984 (me) and 1985 (John), we have each moved several times. We’d be apart for a few years, but then once we got back together, it would be like no time had passed. We’d just pick right back up, still good friends. The first parting was when I went off to UF a year before John did. He of course caught up with me soon enough. Then I joined the Navy for four years while John went off to Seattle for a while, and we regrouped again back in Gainesville, Florida, in 1990. It sucks that he died during another one of those forkings of our paths, and the most prolonged.

The last time I saw John, he was crossing NW 23rd Avenue in Gainesville on a bike, as I came up to the intersection at 13th Street. I yelled out the window and told him about the awesome new job I’d just landed with Novell (March, 1999). John was the first true hacker I knew, and at one point aspired to work for Borland (at the time, one of the most important software companies). So I knew he would appreciate the significance of me getting hired by Novell and I was glad he was one of the first people I got to share the news with. He was of course genuinely pleased for me; and I was worried for him — John had just accepted employment with the City of Gainesville, a few years after I myself had sworn off government employment permanently.

Of course I somewhat regretted not staying in better contact with John after that. But I wasn’t too worried, confident that we would see each other again and that the friendship would be intact when that happened. John Midtgard died on October 21st. Despite the power of the Internet I didn’t find out for two months, thanks to a mutual friend’s Web site. Interestingly, also last week, while going through old stuff in the garage, I found some printouts of miscellaneous writings that I had assumed were lost permanently in The Great Hard Drive Crash of ‘98. Among them were some thoughts on my friendship with John, dated August 8, 1994, an awesome and timely reminder of why I hold him in such high regard and why I am grateful for having known him.

What I wrote is a little too personal and embarrassing to copy here. Let’s just say that back in high school I was a real butt head, and John never held it against me. With me, he was soft spoken, profoundly tolerant and gentle. Like a saint, he was a role model and I became a better person by following his example. John had the stature of The Big Show, and a somewhat intimidating Metallica tattoo to match. And I know that some people who wronged him saw a different side of his personality. But all I ever saw was generosity, respect and kindness. I don’t know why I deserved such a profound friend, but every good thing I do today and every right decision I make is at least partially due to my friend John Midtgard.

John got his kindness and generosity (and his appreciation for music!) from his mother, Susan. Knowing her was an incredible fringe benefit of being John’s friend. [She took us to an Ozzy Osbourne concert (how cool is that, huh!?), back in 1984. We got all the way to Tampa (some thirty-plus miles) when I realized I'd left my ticket on the dresser in my bedroom. No problem. Susan just made the hour round trip to go back and get my ticket. We still arrived in plenty of time to see the opening act (Mötley Crüe, before they were famous).] I’ve lost contact with Susan as well, and can’t find any trace of her via conventional resources on the Internet. I’d sure like to find her now and share the pain of her loss. [Susan especially loved David Gilmour's About Face album, not just because it is phenomenally good music, but because Gilmour's photo on the cover looks just like John did at the time.]

Goodbye, John. Thanks for being there when I drove the wrong way on I-75 while going to see Aerosmith on their Back in the Saddle tour. Thanks for being there when we saw Star Wars three times in a row and AC/DC three nights in a row. Thanks for holding on to those Marvel comics for me — of course you were right, eventually I did want them back. Thanks for all the help, even when you probably didn’t realize you were giving it. Thanks for being there as a rock that I could always drift back to. I hope your years at City of Gainesville were fulfilling, even tho I’m sure their VAX system went the same way as UF’s….

Cheers, and… Excelsior!