Sometimes I forget how much time passes between these posts. I have tried to write this one three times  and it is very hard to deal with the ending. If any one could be my twin brother from a different mother it would be Mike Lane. Mike is on the left in this picture and I am on the right. And if I had continued traveling the path this world so desperately wanted me to take, I am sure I would have found an end much like the one that found Mike. Both of us were drawn to the same things this world offered. Both of us sought them with all the zeal our souls could muster. His story amplifies the magnitude of God's grace in my life and the differences between a fate like Mike's and mine can be measured with a micrometer.

Mike was a melancholic man. A very deep thinker. To illustrate this my mind wanders to a scene in Casablanca where Humphrey Bogart is being interviewed by Conrad Vedit (Major Strasser). Bogey is asked about his nationality to which Mike Lane in the Bogey role replies "I'm a drunkard" laughter ensues and I as Captain Renault defend him by adding "That makes Rick a citizen of the world". Mike, no doubt, was a citizen of the world. Mike ran the buy back counter at Long's Bookstore where students would bring their books back to the store after they had finished a course in hopes of getting enough money to buy books for the up coming quarter. Mike would look over the merchandise, flip through a few pages in a catalog of used books (the preverbal black book for his industry) then he would state in a matter of fact way a price. "$35.00"/"I'm a drunkard"... zero emotion, zero empathy. Neutral was the order of the day. He didn't care what you thought or what the amount meant to a struggling student. He didn't want to hear your story either. He only wanted to hear from that person "I'll take it" or "Thanks anyway". Just like Bogey in that scene "Arrest Me" or "Piss off" any other conversation was immaterial. And while he was not cruel in any conversation that might occur beyond one that included what he wanted to hear. His responses were measured, direct, and most importantly unemotional.

Like myself, Mike was an imposing presence and just slightly shorter than me. Many at Mama's who have seen this picture were amazed that he was ever this "small". But, one thing is clear here, his smile reveals a desire to experience great things. And if you were his friend there was no greater confidante, no greater empathizer, and no one greater to commiserate with on the ride we called life. His world view could be summed up in a Greatful Dead song "...I may be going to hell in a bucket but at least I'm enjoying the ride".

YouTube - Grateful Dead - Hell In A Bucket - 06-26-94
   

Enjoy he did. Mike often closed the place with us and more often than not "the faithful" (a group that varied in size) would elect to finish the night at a "real bar" (during my time Mama's only sold beer and wine and closed at 1am, It still closes "early" but is a full service tavern today). Mike's drink was "Old Bushmills" and while in his presence it was my favorite too. His laughter was infectious. His spirit could soar when he was well lubricated. He dreamed of selling everything and moving to Belize to be a beach bum. He would quote you things about the country how he was going to get there. You could almost swear you were barefoot and the sand and surf were rushing between your toes in his presence.

Mike and I shared a passion for food, and drink, and joy in life. Both of us were closet romantics with huge inferiority complexes (I can say that now). We also shared a passion for the same waitress who worked at the bar. Neither of us realized the full extent of this passion for ourselves but it ran mightily through us and we would commiserate accordingly as we observerd the small stream of "proper" suiters enter and exit her life. As hard as it is to write this story. Writing her story would be "a stretch" for me. Not too long after this waitress went off to marry "the right man" (good catholic girls marry good catholic boys, right?). Mike fell into a deep depression and over the next few years he grew morbidly obese and eventually succumbed to the health issues that arise from that situation. It would be unfair to say that the marriage of this waitress sent him into this depression. That time began at the very end of my time at Mama's and I was not there during the period of his decline. But the timing fits, Our passions fit, And had I not found my savior... I think our fates would have been similar. Brothers, especially twin brothers know these things.

To Mike, with Old Bushmills in my hand held high and with fondest memories:

"May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head.
be always strong.
May you be in heaven
a half hour before
the devil knows you're dead"
Irish Toast