He’d been battling so much sickness you’d think it would have become an obvious part of him. Fibromyalgia, COPD, but he was still just as light and funny to talk to as ever. Unpredictable, crazy. He, too, seemed the same person after so many years.

I’ve been looking through his photo albums tonight on MySpace, and he did look truly happy in the lovely ceremony to marry Missy. I’ve been reading through his livejournal entries, and it just breaks my heart at how many posts proclaim his fitness after being rushed to the hospital for some urgency. Over and over he proclaims that the next chapter of his life is only beginning. I fear he is about to truly begin the next chapter, and I find myself more at ease sitting at a computer and winding through memories than making the journey to actually see his unconscious body on the respirator in the ICU. Though we spent more than 10 years being friends and for a brief moment roomies, another 10 years have passed since I moved away, and I did only manage to continue visiting Chattanooga for as long as he and Jim were roomies and in the old familiar townhome. When Jim moved on to Atlanta, Kelly went elsewhere and we never managed to meet face to face again.

So how, after so much time, can I intrude on his family and close friends, a complete stranger to most of them, and claim any right to be there in this intimate, personal time with him in the ICU. In 10 years he’d become a father and husband and given up smoking and drinking, and that was a man I didn’t know well enough.  Jimmy said when he phoned with the last update that if I had any last words to say to the man, that I’d better get there quick. There aren’t words that need to be said. Kelly knew as well as I know how time passes and that you can’t live a life of regrets, and that just because I hadn’t seen you in a blue moon, didn’t mean I stopped caring.

I want to sit here and write down a 100 goofy Kelly memories, which would be really easy especially when you factor in that I knew him in the days when we played roleplaying games for fun on a Saturday night and drank our way through Chattacon every year. Minotaurs in the stairwells, and what not. Honestly the memory that always pops out is always going to be the day he burst into the room shouting that he needed a machine to make it all real. Maybe most of those memories are best kept locked up afterall, since I’m sure all the late night profound discussions might seem a little less profound to the dauntain we’ve become while we weren’t paying attention.

This Hoover doesn't suck -- Kelly

So tonight I’ve spent time thinking joyous memories of my friend Kelly, who will likely never wake up. I didn’t know how else to spend the time. Now I’ve shared this with all of you. If there’s any power in “well wishing”, I hope he is getting the strong vibe tonight from everyone. One more memory, of a bored group of us wandering Chattacon and just beginning to wonder why we still came to such events, suddenly laughing and having a wonderful time moments after Kelly finally joined us. I remember Shea actually telling Kelly that his energy and joy was contagious and had helped us all have a better time. Since then I’ve met very few other folks who “brought the party” the way Kelly did, and I think the world would be a sadder place without him in it. If you’ve managed to read this, please send him your love tonight.

This eshu compass icon is for you, man, as you follow wherever your path may lead you. And now I’ll share this great photo of Kelly and the caption he gave it.

 Apparently JamesT’s mom has quite a sweet collection… Animals, Simon & Garfunkle, America, Peter Frampton, Rod Stewart, Gary Wright, Neil Diamond,  Bob Seger, Beatles…. Leo Sayer… yes, Leo Sayer. James is reading off these titles to me and commenting on “the only songs he recognized” as a youth and how he would play a song or 2 of most of these and go through the stack pretty fast. He gets to Leo Sayer and I’m like “Whoa!? Seriously?” That was one of my first two 45s, bought as a youth at a yard-sale for a dime, as I recall, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing/Magdalena” –the other was Rita Coolidge “Your Love (is lifting me higher)”.  Technically they were the first records I ever had that weren’t red or blue or green and went along with storybooks, though they were still played on my same toy record player. I SO played the heck out of those two 45s that mom and dad broke down and got me a real stereo with record player that Christmas and encouraged the fam to get me records to play on it… ANYTHING… so I’d leave those behind. I have vivid memories of Dad and myself playfully arguring that Leo Sayer must be a woman with a voice that high pitched.

As I recall, with the stereo that year I got my first LPs… Kenny Rogers “The Gambler” from dad, K-Tel’s “Full Tilt” 1981 collection, Rick Springfield’s “Working Class Dog” and the ever mysterious “Star Wars and Other Galactic Funk”, which contained the words “Star Wars” and thus I forever tried to love, but didn’t really “get”… at least at 9-10 years old.

Four records, of course, weren’t nearly enough, and thus began my “allowance” phase — which I was given bi-weekly along with a trip to Hills, where I could pick out a 45 or save up for an LP (save! ha). I think Mom and Dad were compelled to give me an allowance  just to keep me from playing the same record over and over (which I actually still tend to do even today, a cd may not change in my car player for a month or until I have the same passenger more than once and I get self-conscious about what was playing for them last time). I remember more than once being reminded that the “stereo” had more than just a record player, but was also a radio — though, without an antenna all I seemed to pick up was country music stations so it was worthless to me.

Anywho… as the still mostly tipsy JamesT is enjoying his nostaliga moment with all these records from his mom’s collection, and inspired mostly by the “Frampton Comes Alive”, I had to share a bit of nostalgia of my own.

The nostalgia was probably a requirement of these family reunion weekends anyway, even though I like the new traditions, too. Making our hats was fun, making (and eating!) the derby pie was fun, and our derby “lotto” made the race fun to watch, even if I didn’t win. I think we should probably make our hats in advance and just show up with them in the future… so we could be more elaborate, and though it was rich and delicious, I wasn’t fully pleased with my chosen derby pie recipe, so i think i’ll make the tradition to try a new recipe for it every year until we find a winner.

But… gah… it’s late for this crowd, and the wake-up call for breakfast will be all too early, so I’d better shut up and get some sleep. Sunday is the “official” reunion day, and we have to get that overwith so we can have our yearly gossip-fest.